


Two Bastards, One Bedroom

by goresmores



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Ambiguously Queer Eddie, Basically just a New Girl AU, Bi Richie, Dom!Eddie, Externalized homophobia, Face Slapping, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Lots of fighing, M/M, Oral Sex, Some mild racism, Switching, gay slurs, richie has adhd, sub!richie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20950163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresmores/pseuds/goresmores
Summary: After turning eighteen and graduating high school, Richie, Beverly and Eddie get an apartment together. Eddie doesn't make it easy, but some mild kidnapping and completely rational bickering seem to do the job! Cue the misadventures of Richie's pining ass as he shares an apartment with a girl thatdefinitelyhas boobs, and a bedroom with his best friend/love interest. Because of course Richie Tozier makes nothing but good decisions and has no mental health issues whatsoever.Home is where your shitty parents can't touch you! And also where Richie is furiously masturbating in the bathroom.





	1. Getting Situated

**Author's Note:**

> so, i wrote this while thinking about bill hader because hes really hot and im a disaster bi. that said, my eddie and richie are really just finn/jack faceclaims but two years older than they are in real life. also, please take periods for the pauses that they are. this isn't really a smoothly written fic. it's kinda jerky. kind of like it's written here. which is awkward, but it's supposed to be because thats kind of just the general vibe of the fic. fair warning that i've tagged stuff in advance just so you know what you're signing up for and also just because im not gonna remember to tag any of this shit later
> 
> i've prewritten almost 15k, so this is the first chapter of a few. i don't have a set upload schedule because i have to see how well my writing goes for the next few days, but it's almost done and _hopefully_ it will be before the end of this week. im trying to be patient about my storytelling so it isn't rushed but i have adhd and my mars is in aries, so you can imagine the kind of stress im under.

“Do you think that maybe this is a bad idea?” 

“Obviously I don’t or we wouldn’t be here right now. You think everything is a bad idea, just go inside.”

“Uh, I only think everything is a bad idea because you always like to give everyone the shittiest idea your butthole brain can think of and then crap it out your mouth—” Richie interrupted to yell ‘oh fuck you!’—”like everyone wants to hear them all the time,” Eddie continued, matter-of-fact, “You guys have good ideas, sometimes. They’re just mostly stupid and dangerous and I think they’re garbage.”

Richie rolled his eyes, “All I heard out of all of that is that you’re a pussy most of the time. You wanna be a pussy all your life? You and Stanley can form a fuckin’ Pussy Union and go jerk each other off or something, would that be fun? Would you like that? Is _that_ a good idea?” 

Beverly turned around and gave them a weary look.

Eddie’s mouth hung open in full offense, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ jerk off Stan, that’s fucking gross, why do you have to make everything gross, huh? Why don’t _you_ go jerk him off?!” Eddie pushed at him, “I’m not a fucking pussy, okay?” 

“Okay well if you’re not a pussy then go inside!” Richie shoved back and Eddie was forced through the threshold of their new apartment with a shriek, fumbling to keep his balance. 

“Don’t push me! If I break an arm or a leg or my spine or some shit, _you’re_ paying for my medical bills!” 

Richie followed him inside and shut the door, “Whatever dude, I’m not trying to fucking kill you or something, I—” but Richie was interrupted by a knock on the door. He looked at it, wary. Knocks on the door were still uncomfortable, especially knowing the three of them were inside. 

That meant whoever was on the other side was a stranger, and their minds always went back to Pennywise. They’d killed him, but there was still the lingering possibility that they’d failed, and even though the timing meant their fears were irrational, that didn’t stop them from hesitating.

The three of them shared a look, and then Eddie pushed Richie to the door, to which Richie responded by slapping at him. It turned into a silent slapfight before Beverly stage whispered, _“Guys!”_ and they stopped. 

__

With a gulp, Richie tried to walk casually to the door, his gait stuttering once under his anxiety before he twisted the knob and pulled it open. 

__

There was a tired looking guy standing there with his hand raised, poised to knock again. Noticing Richie, he dropped it. “Hi, I’m your neighbor. Can you guys shut the fuck up? I can hear you from the end of the hall.” 

__

“Yessir. Sorry, sir.” 

__

“Whatever.” The guy walked off and Richie shut the door once again. 

__

They stood in silence, looking at each other in the aftermath, before Eddie broke it to say, “I told you this was a bad idea.”

__

\---

__

Beverly was sitting on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

__

“Bev?” 

__

She rolled her head to the side to glance at Richie before looking back up, patting the cushion of the couch beside her. 

__

He sat down. “You okay?” 

__

“Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m better than not okay?” 

__

He nodded. “Sounds about right, yeah. You wanna talk about it?” 

__

“It’s just weird. I know we waited until we were eighteen to move out to get away from our parents, but it’s kind of hard to believe we’re here. I guess… I keep expecting my dad to come home and—and, well—” 

__

“Yeah.” 

__

“But he won’t. And I’m relieved. I feel like I can breathe, but there’s this weird feeling, too, like maybe I don’t deserve to.” 

__

He rested a comforting hand on her thigh, “No, Bev, you do. Trust me. You deserve this. I kind of feel bad talking shit about your dad, but seriously, fuck that guy. Fuck Eddie’s mom. I’m glad you guys are here, and not at home with them.” 

__

She placed a hand on top of his and gave him a sad smile. “Thanks, Richie.” 

__

“‘Course.”

__

They ended up sitting there, staring at the ceiling together, their fingers locking together at some point. 

__

“God, it’s so fucking quiet in here. This is the worst. How do you _stand_ this?” 

__

Beverly laughed, “That’s what you’re here for, Trashmouth.” 

__

“Fuck no. Don’t get me wrong, I love to hear myself talk as much as Eddie does but we need a TV. I’m not gonna be filling the silence around here full-time. We need DVDs and cable. I mean, what are we? Amish?”

__

Her grin is huge, and it makes something great swell up in Richie’s chest, “Definitely not. Not with the way you talk.” She presses her forehead to his shoulder. “I love you, Richie. We’ll make a TV our priority after we get a coffee maker.” 

__

“Ugh, that’s right. College. The semester starts in a week, right?” 

__

“Week and a half, yeah,” she says, lifting her head.

__

“Good fucking luck.”

__

“I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

__

He shrugs, “Yeah, I’m sure you will. Still mean it, though.” 

__

Beverly pats him and gets up, “Let’s get some sleep, huh? 

__

Richie scoffs. “Yeah, sleep. Sure.” Aside from the semi-frequent nightmares, he was also sharing a room with Eddie, and that was hell on its own. “Night, Bev.” 

__

“Night, Rich.” 

__

They parted ways, and Richie opened the door to his shared room. Eddie had fallen asleep awhile ago, and Richie flopped down onto his pallet on the floor. 

__

_Two guys, one bed,_ he thought. At least that was sort of hot, unlike the reference itself. He'd seen four seconds and almost threw up.

__

The plan had always been to have the three of them live together, but Eddie had hesitated when it came to moving in, citing this whole bullshit, paranoid crap about the three of them not being able to make rent, getting kicked out and having to move back home or at the very worst being homeless. They’d have to drop out of college and then their lives would be a downward spiral, where they’d end up being alcoholics, addicted to crack and having unprotected sex in alleyways to pay for their next fix because their lifestyle would mean they couldn’t hold a job to pay for their drugs. One day, they’d piss off the wrong people, (“let’s be honest, Richie, you would”) and they’d be shot and killed and no one would care because they were just three crack-addicted prostitutes.

__

It was… so much. So Eddie. He was infuriating and it undoubtedly pissed Richie off sometimes, but at the same time he just wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss him like he’d die without it. Sometimes it really did feel that way.

__

Which was kind of the problem, here. Sharing a room with the dude you’re in love with? Not a great idea. Constantly being around him, not being able to fuckin’ jerk off cause there’s no _privacy._

__

At least he wasn’t one of those poor, stupid fucks who said their crush’s name when they came. That would suck. No, Richie Tozier was solidly a grunt-and-nut kind of a guy. Was Eddie though? Oh no, fuck, don’t think about that. He squeezed his eyes shut. _Eddie’s mom, Eddie’s mom, Eddie’s mom—Eddie’s mom getting railed by Henry Bowers._ Ugh, God, that would be seriously nasty. Definitely a future go-to boner killer.

__

His brain was silent for all of five seconds before it settled on something else to complain about. Like the fact that he couldn’t sleep. Part of him blames Eddie, since his crackhead rant was the reason why they only have one bed, but another part of him doesn't care that much because he’s here with Eddie and Eddie isn’t with him mom, which means _so_ much more to him than sleeping on a bed every night. 

__

They were definitely alternating, though. He was _not_ sleeping on the floor every night. Honestly, making them come kidnap him from his mom’s house and help pack his bags for him? And then having to be shoved through the door? Richie huffed dramatically. Ridiculous. Eddie was ridiculous. Richie’s so fucking in love with him. It’s so bad. The worst. He shoved his glasses up and scrubbed his hands over his face. 

__

“Go to sleep, Richie.” 

__

Eddie’s voice startled him, and it took Richie a second to process what he'd said.

__

His small, tired voice was so cute. So, so cute. 

__

“Are you facing me? Don’t face me. I can’t sleep with you watching me.” 

__

“My eyes are closed.” Slow, tired. Sleep-slurred. Fuck. 

__

“It’s dark, I can’t tell whether or not you’re lying.”

__

“Beep beep.” 

__

Right, yeah, too fast, too much. Eddie is tired and couldn’t see in the dark even if he had been watching. “Night, Eddie.” 

__

His only response was a hum, and then Eddie rolled over. 

__

So, he was back in the silence of their room. 

__

Nope. No. Fuck it. This wasn’t working. 

__

Richie got up and left, closing the door quietly behind him and going to the restroom. He’d been trying not to masturbate, but this was just too much. Can’t sleep, can’t help how fucking gone he is on Eddie. 

__

He closes the toilet lid and pulls his pants down, fumbling through the closest drawer for his conveniently stored lotion so he can squirt some into his hand and wrap it around his dick. He’s had this whole thing having Eddie suck him off lately, but he also wouldn’t mind having Eddie make him suck _his_ dick. He’d deserve it. Eddie deserves the world. Wrapping his lips around Eddie’s cock and sucking and hearing his voice slur sort of like it does when he’s tired, Eddie’s hand in his hair, Eddie’s moans, the taste of jizz. 

__

It’s rough and fast, because he just wants to cum, doesn’t want to take his time. Taking your time while masturbating? Gross. Just blow your load and get off the commode. It’s already weird enough jerking it to your best friend, why make it a whole weird fucking ritual?

__

His orgasm builds fast and he comes across his hand and in his own lap. It’s quick work to wipe up, and then he flushes for show and washes his hands. 

__

Back in his pallet on the floor he finds himself with a newfound tiredness and a familiar feeling of shame. 

__

\---

__

It takes them a week to get both another bed for their room and a coffee maker for the apartment. The coffee maker comes when Richie gets his paycheck from his shitty movie theatre job, and the bed comes from Eddie’s mom when she texts Eddie, frantic and crying because she wants him to come home. 

__

Rather than delete her number, Richie suggests telling her that he’s sleeping on the floor and that if she ever wants to see him again, she has to let Rich and Bev go get his old bed from the house. Eddie gives him a pathetic look, but does end up playing up the dramatics of sleeping on the floor (which isn’t really that much of a lie, according to the long list of side-effects Eddie was throwing out rapid-fire over the phone) and they get to pick up the bed the same day. 

__

So, it’s coming together. The college countdown is both a blessing and a curse. It’s just more of Richie’s lovelorn bullshit; the idea of Eddie being gone for so much of the day, which is great, because they fight a lot and Richie needs the alone time, but also kind of sucks because despite all of that, he still doesn’t actually mind having Eddie around so much. Loves it, even. 

__

They all have jobs, so that’s killed a lot of the downtime before college for them, but they know what school and work will mean for Bev and Eddie, and Richie can firmly say he’s not jealous. He's good at school, but he doesn't necessarily like it. Plus, if he's only working, he's got extra time to do whatever. 

__

Like jack off undisturbed. 

__

And definitely see about putting a finger in his butt.

__

His priorities are in order, obviously.

__

There's a loud growl of irritation from his room that draws his attention away from his toast and the view outside the window. 

__

Out storms Eddie, holding up a pair of Richie's underwear by the very tip of the waistband with the tipiest tips of his fingers. "Clean up your side of the room! We might as well start calling Trash_bag_ at this point!” 

__

“Dude, calm down, it's not even that bad!” 

__

Immediately, Eddie launches into the most nerve-grinding pig noises, stomping over to him with the underwear held out in front of him. 

__

“Oh hey, nice impression of your mom! You’re really nailing it, best one yet!” But now the underwear are getting too close to his face for comfort, “One critique though,” he quips, standing abruptly and knocking his chair over in haste to get away from his friend, “Do it deeper? She’s more than just a pig, man! That woman is the whole fucking hog!” 

__

“Shut the fuck up, it’s not about my fucking mom, it’s about the fact that you’re a fucking pig. You’re disgusting! Your boxers were on the lampshade, dillhole! Fucking—stop backing away and let me shove these in your face, Trashmouth!” 

__

His hip hits the couch and Richie winces, “No thanks, I’m good. Really.”

__

“I’m not _asking,_ Richie! Who’s the pussy now, huh?!” 

__

“You know I think you’re sexy when you’re bossy, but I’m really gonna have to safeword on this one. Eso no me gusta, cabeza de Richie es cerrado, mi amigo.” He really should have been better at running away, considering all the clown bullshit, but once again, Richie was better at running with his mouth than with his legs. One misstep and he was falling backwards onto the couch, with Eddie was closing in. One knee landed next to his thigh, leaving Eddie leaning halfway over him. He pulled Richie’s own dirty underwear over his head until his tighty-whities were covering his eyes.

__

“Clean the room.” 

__

“Okay.” 

__

“And Richie?” 

__

“Yes?” 

__

“I don’t speak Spanish.” And then Eddie was gone.

__

That would have been really hot without the underwear thing. Like a sexy tiger. Some real predator/prey shit. Hunting him down and looming over him. Okay, well, he’d definitely make himself horny at this rate. 

__

He pulled the underwear off his head. 

__

Time to go make up for being a shithead. 

__

Knowing Eddie hadn’t had breakfast yet, Richie threw some waffles into the toaster, fixed ‘em up right and set them on the table. Polite as he was trying to be, he knocked on their bedroom door, instead of just barging in. 

__

No response. 

__

“Eddie?” 

__

“Just open the fucking door.” 

__

Well alright then. He peeked his head in to see Eddie facedown on the bed. “Normally you’d be yelling at me to knock.” 

__

Eddie turned his head to reply, “Yeah, well, whatever. I didn’t wanna have to open it.”

__

“I’m sorry about the room. I made you breakfast, so you can go eat while I clean.” 

__

His friend rolled out of bed, bumping into Richie with his shoulder on his way out. “Thanks, Trashcan.” 

__

“Okay, no don’t—don’t make that a thing. C’mon.”

__

“It’s a thing. That’s solidly a thing now.” Eddie closed the door behind him.

__

“Goddamnit,” he cursed, half at ‘Trashbag’ and half at the mess he’d made; clothes strewn about, trash, an empty plastic Walmart bag, and a few water bottles abandoned at different states of full. The whole no parents thing was really getting to him, and Eddie’s OCD had apparently had enough, that much was more than obvious. 

__

It was pretty quick work. Using the Walmart bag to gather up all the trash narrowed down the list of things to do, and he made a game of tossing his clothes into the hamper. Sure, he rebounded more times than he’d like or ever admit to, but it _was_ way more entertaining than just taking your clothes off and putting them inside. Laundry and undressing was so lame. 

__

That train of thought hit him in an uncomfortable way and he flopped down onto his mattress with his army of plastic bottles, uncapping two so he could pour the contents of one into the other.

__

"Richie!"

__

Richie yelped and his hands flew up in panic, slinging water across the floor, and onto the blanket of Eddie's bed. 

__

Eddie took a second to assess what the hell had just happened and said, "Dude," with the most disappointment and exasperation Richie had heard in the past week. Couldn't compare that to a lifetime, because people have been way more disappointed and exasperated with far less to say.

__

"If you judge me, I'll kick you out. I will. You'll be banished to the couch like I'm your scorned lover, don't test me, Kaspbrak. 

__

"You just shrieked like a little girl and flung water everywhere. Of course I'm judging you. That's not the point though. Do you remember my birthday?"

__

Richie squinted at him, confused. "September third?" 

__

"Okay! Just making sure." And then he was gone again. 

__

Suspicious, Richie pulled out his phone and checked the date. 

__

August eighteenth stared back at him in bold white letters. 

__

Shit.

__


	2. Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie has a birthday coming up and Richie is increasingly Not Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently i published the first chapter october 8th and that feels fake because i work nights, so even though im posting this chapter on the 9th, its already october 10th in my head. time is a lie

So, things weren't going quite like Richie had expected. 

To a degree, they were. He had free time, he was definitely jerking it enough to satisfy his teenage libido (no-reason boners withstanding), and it's been three days and counting since he's first tried fingering his own ass. It was peak, really. 

It just took a few days for him to realize that things were going to nosedive in a different direction. 

Since Eddie and Bev had started classes, they’d been out of the house pretty much all day for the past week, including part of the weekend. When they were home, they were either tired or eating and doing homework, which left not that much time for, say... chores around the apartment. 

Cue the rise of Mama Richie.

Dishes, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming… Which, something to note, he had to _buy_ a vacuum cleaner because they completely forgot to think about ever needing one.

“Mothers are doing this? For eighteen years? Jesus Christ,” he complained, scraping leftover crap off of one of the plates from last night’s dinner. He was going to give Eddie a stern talking to. Letting his food just dry up and stick to it? Disgusting. Terrible.

Okay, that was bullshit, he’d done the same thing until he’d started doing dishes, but nobody but him had to fuckin’ deal with it, so that was his own business.

That said, it wasn’t really… so bad. He’d had to make a list of what all he'd need to do because he was pretty sure he probably had ADHD or something, and couldn’t remember half the shit he was supposed to be doing on any given day, but his friends were appreciative, at least. There just needed to be some equilibrium in the apartment or else the shit he was supposed to be doing was gonna hit the fan fast. 

It was a graceless beginning (read: lots of yelling and Richie trying to not take responsibility), but once he’d taken up the mantle, things were going smoothly. Not counting this plate. Fuck this plate. 

But seriously, it calmed something in him after his realization of how pathetic he was. The room, and thinking that getting undressed and laundry were lame was such bullshit. He'd needed to grow up already, and while essentially being everyone's new mom hadn't been exactly what he had in mind, it was what worked. 

He heard the door being unlocked and the familiar thunk of something being dropped onto the floor, so he called out, "Eddie Spaghetti, is that you?" 

"Goddamnit, not this shit again." Eddie came around the corner and glowered at him from across the kitchen bar. "I told you not to call me that." 

Richie held up the plate, "Then scrape your fucking noodles into the trashcan, you heathen. Contrary to the new status quo, I'm not your mom. I'm much more attractive and my personality is sparkling. Take note." 

Eddie rolled his eyes, "Sorry about the plate," he apologized, genuinely. He popped down onto one of the stools. "I know it's really happening, but I'm still surprised you're actually doing all of this. You couldn't even clean your half of the room like, a week ago." 

"Yeah, well, you guys look half dead every time you come home and the dishes were in the sink for four days. I'm pretty sure whatever grew on them had become its own ecosystem."

Eddie made a face.

"Exactly. So…" He gave the plate a final rinse and put it in the drain. "Anyways, I draw the line at laundry. I'm not touching your cumstained boxers, and I'm definitely not touching Beverly's bras, so you guys can be the big boys and girls I know you are and wash your own shit."

"I don't have cumstains in my boxers!" 

"Everyone gets baby juice in their—" Eddie shrieked, covering his ears, starting up a chant of "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" while Richie smiled wide and continued with, "underwear, its puberty, it happens, it's _natural,_ honey!"

"Oh my God, stop! I _hate_ you!"Eddie ran off with his hands still covering his ears.

"You don't mean that!" Richie called after him, and the conversation was punctuated by their bedroom door slamming shut. 

Definitely one of their top ten interactions. 

\--- 

"So, what are you getting him?" 

"Mmm, nope. That's a secret. You'll find out when Eddie does." 

"Fuck, are you telling me we just failed the Bechdel Test so you could deny spilling the beans on his present?" 

Beverly took a moment to contemplate this, "Yep," she said simply. "That was your own choice. Besides, our apartment doesn't pass the Bechdel test. Not even the Losers as a whole do." 

"Goddamnit. Don't crucify me on semantics." He took an obnoxious step forward, "I respect your decision, though. I can't keep a secret for shit." Only maybe being in love with Eddie. As far as he knew, he was solidly the only one of the Losers aware of that.

"I know, Richie." She patted his back. "I don't understand why you're so stressed. He's one of your best friends, I'm sure whatever you get him will be great." 

"You have much more faith in me than probably everyone we know. Including myself." He pressed a dramatic hand to her forehead, "Are you okay? Did you hit your head and forget what a loser I am?" 

She smiled at him, "Don't play that card, Tozier. You know who we are." 

He smiled back, "Yeah, yeah, yeah." He scanned the shelves as they walked down the aisles. Nothing was screaming his friend's name. It was all just crap, crap and more crap. "I've never been great at this shit. I clam up. Can't think of what to give people. And some of you guys are just impossible. Bill? No idea. Mike? I dunno, a book?" 

"You're just overthinking it," she supplied, lifting something to inspect it. Seriously what even was that? It looked like something some hundred year old lady would keep in her house that her cats would piss in. 

"Me? Never. I've never had a single thought in my life." Nevermind that his mouth goes ninety to nothing, and his brain is right behind it at all hours of the day. It even works a part-time night job. Bastard ass bundle of neurons. Trash brain. "I'm starting to think trash applies to much more than just my mouth." 

"Aw, baby's first thought!" 

Richie opened his mouth, but closed it again. "No, that was a good one. I can't even be mad. High five me." He held his hand up and Beverly's palm met his with a crisp clap. "God, that was good. We didn't even have to do the white people second try." 

Beverly's laugh was beautiful, eyes squeezed shut, and voice melodic.

"You're a really good friend, y'know that?" 

She seemed surprised by this, but quickly brushed it aside to humbly say, "Me? Couldn't be." 

"Don't play coy, you're fantastic," he informed her as she hugged him from the side. 

Frankly, the straightest non-relationship he'd ever had. Beverly was great. Both of them, though? Not great at the romance thing. Her, with her weird love triangle and Richie, with his internalized biphobia.

"Thanks, Rich." 

"Course. Ugh, are you done? Because I was gonna suggest we blow this bread stand. I'll come back tomorrow after my shift or something. I'm tired of looking at _shelves."_

\---

True to his word, after his shift at the theatre, Richie went back to go look around for a gift. 

Overthinking. Always. All the time. Especially when it came to Eddie. He was almost all he could think about, if you ignored his weird obsession with Game of Thrones, the mental brainstorm for what to look up the next time he watches porn and his ever looming motherly duties at the apartment. Which reminded him, he needed to buy Bev some pads. 

Thank God for Walmart. 

As he bee-lined towards the feminine products section, he shot Bev a text. 

To: Token Girl  
_aight im in the pad aisle, what size pussy you wear?_

She responded faster than he'd expected considering she was in class, but that was appreciated, because that meant to he wouldn't have to either stand there for an awkwardly long amount of time or leave and come back. Both were blows to his dignity he was happy to not be taking. 

From: Token Girl  
_Please never text me that ever again._  
_Get the cheapest medium flow ones._

Done and done. 

Then the rest was wandering the aisles trying to avoid buying junk food. It was all so good, but at what cost? Now that he wasn’t running around the neighborhood all the time, he’d started putting on weight. He pressed a hand to his stomach to get a feel for it, his insecurity flaring up. 

Jesus fucking Christ, what was he? A middle-aged white woman? This needed to stop. He slapped (literally slapped) a box of snack cakes off the shelf and into his cart. There. That’d show ‘em. That’d show those bitchass fat cells that he didn’t care what they had to say. 

_You’re hot shit if you believe it, Richie._

And Richie _is_ hot shit. The hottest shit. Like a long-standing crap in the sun. And frankly, he probably smelled just as bad. 

He glanced around the aisle he was in, and with the coast clear, he gave his armpit a subtle sniff. 

Oh _fuck._ No. Deodorant. Who was letting him live like this? Didn’t he have a stick at home? Did he just never use it? What was his fucking problem? He had to have used it on Monday, but it was… quick phone check—Sunday. Shit, Wednesday, then? But no, he would have definitely showered on Saturday. 

Maybe it was time to invest in a pack of post-it notes and a calendar. This was just getting depressing. 

He considered it, but he also knew he had thirty bucks at best in his pocket and that shit was not going to last. Deodorant, psh, big deal. He’ll just be sure to remember next time. It’s not like he’s got anyone to impress. 

This is _such_ a problem, but he’s going to pretend he can ignore it with grace, and maybe even dignity.

He sighed and allowed himself to keep meandering. 

Shopping is so fucking boring, especially without someone else to talk to. It’s just himself and his trash brain, which apparently can’t even remember basic hyg—oh, hello? There was a sale on fanny packs. Five bucks for the ugliest thing he’d ever laid eyes on? No shit. 

Happy birthday, Eddboy.

\---

Back at the apartment, Beverly was sitting on the couch, and Richie tossed her the pack of pads, which she caught with a thanks. 

“How much do I owe you?”

He waved her off and carried the rest of the stuff with him to the kitchen. 

“Shopping, huh?” Eddie asked, glancing up from his soup, “Need some help putting everything up?” 

Richie raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks though.” 

Eddie reached for a bag, “Are you sure? I mean, I can totally help, it’s no problem.”

Richie gasped in exaggerated offense, clutching the bag with the fanny pack to his side to keep it out of Eddie’s evil clutches. “I know what you’re trying to do! But it’s a _surprise!”_

“I’m not doing anything! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m just helping you unload the groceries!” He snatched a bag and started pulling things out, “Like the—the—post-it notes? What the hell?” He looked down into the bag, pawing around at the contents, “Is that a calendar? What are you? A PTA mom?” 

“No! Shut up!” He reached to reclaim his stuff, but Eddie held it behind his back. “Dude, seriously, give it back.”

“No way, what do you need it for?” 

“I just do, okay? Don’t fuck with me right now, I’m not in the mood. Seriously, Eds, come on.” 

His roommate’s face scrunched up suspiciously at the honesty and irritation in Richie’s words. “You’re not gonna joke about it? Lie to me?”

“I know that’s sorta my style, but no, not this time.” He held his hand out insistently. 

Eddie gave it back to him. “Okay then. Uh… sorry.”

Richie shrugged. He tore open his box of snack cakes and tossed one to Eddie and leaving a second on the counter for Bev. Hopefully Eddie wouldn’t need the bedroom right now and Richie would have time to calm down. 

Inside, he flopped down onto his bed and fished out his post-it notes and sharpies.

What was he thinking? This was so stupid. He couldn’t just put post-it reminders in places. That would make it look like he was crazy. And a calendar? Honestly. Eddie was right, he did look like a PTA mom with all of this crap. 

The post-its got shoved into the top drawer of the night stand, and he threw the calendar into the closet so he wouldn’t have to look at it. _Smartphones have calendars, dumbass._

At least Eddie didn’t have anything to say about being called Eds. That probably would have tossed him over the edge. Ugh. Where was he gonna hide the stupid fanny pack anyways? The fight would probably deter him for a few hours, maybe a day at best, before he started trying to search the apartment for his present. Little bastard. 

Richie shoved his face into his pillow in mild hopes of suffocation, but ended up using the time to brainstorm. There were few boundaries his friend wouldn’t cross, and he’d have to be slick if he wanted to pull something off. But maybe… just maybe….

\--- 

“Sorry to keep you up, but the brat took seventy fucking years to fall asleep.”

“He probably feels bad, Rich.” He passed the fanny pack over to her wrapped up in three layers of Walmart brand plastic. “He told me what happened. I mean, I heard but… we talked about it a little bit afterwards.”

“Oh yeah? What’d he say?” 

“Just that he was worried. You’ve been weird lately.” 

Richie’s face scrunched up. “I haven’t been weird. Have I been weird? That sounds fake.”

Beverly shrugged, “A little bit, but I don’t think either of us were really concerned about it until today.” She tucked his gift under arm, and the plastic crinkled obnoxiously. “Are you okay? It’s alright to say no. You don’t have to write off your feelings just because you’re the apartment mom or something. You’re still our friend.”

He immediately tensed up. Talking about his feelings? Genuinely? Oooh nooooo. No, no no no no no. Nuh uh. Feelings who? Never heard of her. Who is she? She’s a stranger. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied. “I’d say never better, but that would be a lie. Unlike the fact that I’m fine.” Fuck. “Which is not a lie." Shit.

"Richie." 

He sighed, "I don't know." He ran his hands through his hair, "Are _you_ okay, Bev?" 

She tensed up, "I mean… I'm better than before, but it's not like all my problems were magically solved." 

"Exactly! It's like that. And my problems aren't as bad as you and Eddie's, but shit happens. I'm fine. It's just a rough patch or something. I'll get over it." He forced the tension out of his body, "C'mere." He opened his arms, and Beverly walked into them. He hugged her tight and he felt her sigh and go slack. 

They stayed like that for a good while and then he let her go, "You need to sleep. Remember," he gestured to the gift, "waaaay down at the bottom of your bra drawer. Your tits are so useful for so many things, you should be proud." 

Bev punched his arm. "Don't ever say that again." 

"Ow! Fuck, is it a compliment to say that you don't hit like a girl?" 

"No. And if you let whatever is wrong bubble over, I'm gonna give you a shiner, Tozier." 

He recoiled, "Jesus, okay. Go easy on my moneymaker." 

Beverly shook her head, smiling, "Good night." 

"Night." 

When she closed her door, Richie looked around. Eddie wasn't hiding out anywhere, so he hadn't faked being asleep. Good deal, good deal. 

Well then, time to go lay in bed and hate himself.

\---

"Okay, so, this is the first time we're having everyone over. Just a PSA, everyone shut the fuck up, because Gordon from down the hall likes to knock and we've already had a noise complaint. We don't need him to call the cops or something. That said, let's get fucked up!" 

His friends gave a quiet cheer and uncapped their beers. 

"Can't believe he's finally all grown up," Richie said, as Eddie finished his announcement and dropped down onto the couch beside him.

"Shut up, Richie. I didn't ask to be born in September." 

Richie gave him a half-hearted slap on the arm, "Nah man, that's all on your mom, but what else is new." 

"How does it feel to be eighteen now?" Mike, always asking the important questions. 

Richie raised his beer at Mike, "Feel like you're finally ready to dick down the ladies, Eds?" 

Eddie punched at him, "How about I dick down your mom?"

The comment was followed up by shock and approval from their friends. 

"He really _has_ grown up!" 

Eddie scowled and turned away from him to talk to Mike, and Richie joined in with Bev, Bill and Stan. Ben was at the end of the couch, a little out of the group, it looked like, but he was drinking his beer, so Richie wrote it off. Dude was just like that sometimes. 

"We don't really see you much, but Mike said you were working on your stutter?" 

"Yeah. I m-mean, it's not perfect, obviously, but it's definitely better. Did you know there's a movie where this p-prince s-sometimes cusses so he can throw his off? It actually works." 

"Dude, no shit? Does that mean we have a new Trashmouth in the Loser's Club?"

Bill laughed, "I'm not here to steal your t-title, Richie. You can keep it." 

Richie shook his head, "The one case where one man's trash isn't another man's treasure. Respect though, I'm glad it's working out for you." 

There were chirps of agreement and then the conversation delved a little deeper into how speech therapy worked, which Richie kinda tuned out. 

_Eddie. Eighteen. Ladies._

He looked at Ben. 

"Hey, Bennyboy. I just realized we forgot to put out the chips and salsa, you wanna come with me to the kitchen and help?" 

Ben nodded and got up to join him. 

"You good out there, dude?" He kept his voice low. Damn apartment was too small and open for meaningful conversations in the kitchen. "Lookin' a little bit like your crush is slow dancing with the prom king out there." 

"Uh," Ben avoided his gaze, so Richie handed him the bag of chips and he turned his attention to that in a way that seemed almost silently thankful, "I mean… y'know." 

Yeah, guess that wasn't entirely inaccurate. "I don't know, dude. Him and Bev keep up with each other and last I heard, he was putting the moves on some college girl." 

It was worth it to see Ben perk up, "Wait, really?" He was still pouring chips, but had looked away just in time for them to start falling over the rim of the bowl and off the top. 

Richie nodded at the bowl and Ben flinched, "Oh, I'm sorry!" They scooped the escaped ones back into the bag and Richie got a smaller bowl out of one of the cabinets. 

"But yeah, dude. Starts with an A or something. Can't remember her name, 'cause I didn't really care all that much, but if it makes you feel better, she's real." He watched as salsa poured out of the jar like a sexy red river. Beverly did the shopping, and Richie could just bust a fucking nut knowing that she'd bought it chunky. 

Ben should marry her. He wouldn't say that, 'cause it was largely a joke and really just about the fact that she bought chunky salsa for the party, but Ben really is a nice dude. Bev is a little bit of a spitfire, in like an air sign kind of way, but that would give them dynamic. Besides, Ben was nice, but like… _too_ nice. 

"Alright, well, now that this shit is done, let's party, huh?" 

"Yeah!" 

\---

Beverly brought the cake out of the kitchen with the candles lit. “It’s time for cake! And then we’ll do presents, okay?” Their friends helped moved the chips, salsa and other crap out of the way so she could set it down on the table in front of the couch. 

Mike led the countdown and then it was a birthday as a birthday does. The song, the candles, cutting the cake, and then _finally_ it was time for gifts. 

Bev went to fish his gift out of her bra drawer while Eddie made quick work of his first present, “A copy of my favorite book!" 

"Yeah! Your mom wouldn't let you buy it because it was all sacrilegious, b-but you're eighteen now!" 

"Hell yeah I'm eighteen!" Eddie high-fived Bill and moved on the next one just as Bev came back with his stupid Walmart gift. 

Stan's gift wasn't as exciting, and it showed in Eddie's grossly honest face, but Stan just smiled. "Socks are practical." 

"Thanks, buddy." 

Mike, Ben, Beverly, all had their turns and by coincidence, Richie ended up being last. 

"You didn't even wrap it?" 

"What are we? Middle-class? Fuck off and tear open the Walmart bags." 

Eddie obliged and absolutely lost his shit when he saw that it was a lime green fanny pack with _'DAD'_ stamped across the side in bold white letters. 

"Go fuck yourself! I don't wear fanny packs anymore!" 

Beverly was in tears and Mike was doubled over. It took a hot minute for the noise to settle before he could finally say, "Look inside."

Eddie glared at him and unzipped the pouch so he could fish inside for his actual gift. An eyebrow shot up as he found it and what he pulled out was a wallet-sized photo of them in first grade. 

"My mom was cleaning out some boxes now that they have more space at the house and she found that in the attic. It's first grade. She dated it on the back." 

His friend flipped it over and read the handwriting, which Richie had already memorized after weeks of carrying it around. 

_Little Richie and Eddie on their first day of school. 8/24/2007_

Eddie's shoulders hunched up and he zipped the picture back up, "Oh fuck you, I think I'm legitimately gonna cry. What kind of sappy shit is this?" 

Richie shrugged. He wanted to give Eddie a hug, but there were too many people around, regardless of the fact that all of them were their friends. "I'm glad you like it." 

\---

“You’re shitfaced, Rich.”

“Nobody wanted to drink that much! More for me!” 

Eddie had one of Richie’s arms over his shoulder and he was trying to lead his drunk, stumbling ass to their bedroom. While he fumbled with the doorknob, Richie let his forehead rest against the doorframe. 

Being drunk was fun. No worries, he was laughing more now than he had in years, probably. And now he had Eddie under his arm. Yeah, definitely baller. 

He was pulled along and brought to the edge of his bed, where he just stood. 

“Dude, you have to get into the bed.” But when Richie didn’t respond, Eddie pushed him and he fell face-first onto it. 

Richie rolled over just as Eddie was opening the door. “Hey, Eds, did I ruin the party?” 

Eddie sighed, “What? No you—”

“‘Cause I feel like I ruined it. Shoulda been you. Y'know, drunk. ‘S yer birthday and look at you. Taking my drunk ass to bed." 

"I promise it's fine, Rich. I didn’t want to get drunk anyways, I mean, do you know what underage alcoholism does to someone? Which is why we’re gonna talk about it in the morning. I’m glad you had fun. You deserve it. It was a great party and it was nice seeing everyone.” 

Richie nodded. “Cool.” 

“G’night, Richie.” 

\---

Hangovers suck. Was it worth getting drunk? Yes, absolutely. Without a doubt. He would definitely get drunk in the future. It just didn’t negate the fact that hangovers suck. Also, beer is gross. There has to be better alcohol. People couldn’t be skating by as alcoholics on _beer_ of all fucking things. 

Out in the living room, everyone else was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

“There he is!”

“Richie!”

“How’s your hangover, dude?”

“Are you okay?” 

“All of you need to shut the fuck up Right Now.” The light hurt and he wasn’t completely sure he was on one single plane of existence. 

The table erupted into laughter, and Richie grabbed their bottle of Tylenol from the fridge. Two pills and half a bottle of water later and he sat down with everyone to eat breakfast. 

“Your first time getting drunk was on a Tuesday,” Beverly criticized.

“Yeah, and now it’s Wednesday. That’s how time works.” 

“Snarky snarky, Tozier.” 

“Oh can it, Kaspbrak.” 

Eddie had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face and God if it wasn’t one of the most attractive things he’s ever seen. 

Breakfast was fun, even though Ben and Stan had gone home some time last night after Richie had been put to bed. With all the dishes in the sink, Mike and Bill said their goodbyes and then it was just another day. 

Richie flopped down onto the couch and groaned. 

Not long after, Eddie came and sat down next to him, “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, some. Food is really good.” Richie tried to get comfortable in his spot, but he felt claustrophobic. “Dude you’re _so_ close to me right now.” 

“I’m too close to you?” 

“Yeah, you gave me like, a tortilla chip worth of space. Scoot over.” 

“You want me to scoot over?” He asked, getting closer, so that now he was practically halfway into Richie’s lap. 

Oh no. 

“Dude!” Richie pushed at him and Eddie resisted, “There’s literally a whole couch, why the fuck are you fighting with me?!” At this rate he was gonna get a boner, and that was _not_ the way a dude should start a hangover morning when talking to his bro.

And then Eddie’s face was close to his, and he was saying, “The couch literally has two seats, it’s a two-person couch, why are you making how close I sit to you such a big deal? Do you want me to sit on the floor? Do you want my ass on the hardwood? What kind of friend does that make you, huh?” But there was just… so much of his face close to Richie’s face and he could feel himself getting overwhelmed. All that looking into his big fucking deer eyes, and down at his lips. 

Can’t do that though—can’t kiss him. That would be bad. And wrong. So, so wrong. Like, this-is-what-the-priest-definitely-said-was-not-a-good-thing kind of bad. 

He was fine before, but now he could feel his stomach churning. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“What?” 

But Richie couldn’t respond, pushing Eddie off without a struggle and running to the restroom. 

Fuck. There went breakfast. 

“Dude.” Eddie was standing in the doorway of the restroom, looking concerned but also grossed out. “Do you—do you need like, water or something?” 

“Yeah.” 

Richie flushed and leaned back against the cabinets, battling with the overwhelming urge to cry. He’d thought about kissing Eddie before but it had never felt so real, and then the second it did, he threw up? What kind of pussy shit was that? Not to mention it was just… gross. That shit was probably never going to happen, and yet here he was, hung up on it for the fifth year in a row. 

What was he doing? 

He needed to fuckin’... move on or something. Couldn’t keep pining after his best friend who was never going to love him back. He was stupid. All the time. Always so fucking stupid. 

At least it was a secret. Since it was a secret, no one had to know why he’d thrown up or why he’d started suddenly going after chicks and it would all be fine! Trashmouth became a playboy. Good. Great. That was an image he could get behind. New girl every week. They didn’t mean anything to him. He wasn’t in love and no one could ever hurt him or break his heart. 

Eddie came back with his glass of water and crouched down on the floor next to him. “I’m sorry that I got rowdy with you when you’re sick. It was dumb.” 

He took a long drink and then set the glass aside. “All we do is dumb shit, Eddie. I’m used to it by now.” 

“Right… yeah. I guess that is us, huh?” But it seemed weird, the way he’d said it. Like he was disappointed somehow, and Richie couldn’t bring himself to look too much into that. Not with his new resolve. Not with the disgusting post-puke feeling that had taken him over. 

Nope. Instead, Richie let Eddie walk out of the restroom without asking about it like the idiot he was.


	3. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie tries to get over Eddie. It's harder than he thought. But then, so is his dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not actually sure how i feel about the pacing for this chapter but considering every chapter ends up being a whole baby arc, i guess its fine??? also, mild warning for misogyny, some star trek bashing, and for the sensitive folk out there—some mean-spirited comments about people who say they can't bake. obviously, these don't reflect my personal views. minus the baking thing. that's 100% me. the misogynistic shit is surface and really just a teenage boy mentality thing that balances out for the better in the end 
> 
> shout out to the people who have commented, though! it honestly means a lot bc im pretty insecure about my writing, and its nice knowing you guys like the story 'n all, so from the bottom of my heart: thank you

Picking up chicks was harder than he thought. 

Technically, Richie knew he was a loser. He had a whole group of friends proudly labeled as losers, it wasn’t something he just _forgot._ But also, turn your attention back to the idea that you’re hot shit if you believe you are. 

Obviously, Richie Tozier is—and always will be—hot shit. 

Too bad nobody else was fucking seeing it. 

He didn't even have high standards. Some losers went straight for the babes because ugly chicks weren't good enough for them, but Richie was an equal opportunity loser. Come one, come all, get your mack on with the fast talkin'est, trashmouthiest motherfucker in all of Maine! 

A fat girl with her hair pulled back into a ponytail walked by and Richie called out, “Hey!” She looked over at him, “Wanna go on a date?” 

She gave him a once over and snorted, “I’ll pass.”

What a bitch. 

"Dude, you're too desperate. Chicks don't dig desperate dudes." 

Richie scoffed, "Oh please, what do _you_ know, Kyle? Every time someone talks to you, you start showing off all your Star Trek trivia. No one’s gave a shit about Star Trek since Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto gave it a half-desirable reboot in 2009. It’s not even a top-grossing franchise. By the time the third movie came out—which, I didn’t even know there _was_ a third movie—people went back to not giving a shit about it and nothing has changed between 2016 and now." 

Kyle put his arm on the counter, "If you don’t care so much then why do you know that?”

“Because I needed to know what to say the next time I had to talk to you about Star Trek. Seriously dude, you need to dial it back.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “You can disrespect the Trek—” Richie pinched the bridge of his nose, “Don’t call it that,” as Kyle continued, “—But at least I have a girlfriend. You've been shot down twelve times in five days." 

"You don't know that, we haven't even been scheduled together for part of this week." Not to mention there were more than that, they just happened when no one else was around to witness his shame.

"Oh, I know. Me and Justin talk." 

Richie glanced over at Justin, who was handing popcorn to some dude and his date. “Okay, so what? Someone’s bound to say yes. I’d rather kill myself than take advice from the dweeb that can’t go ten minutes without dropping a fun fact about _Into Darkness’_ pre-production.”

“Suit yourself, butthole. No one’s ever gonna date you when you look like an alien with huge eyes and a nose the length of a rat’s tail.” He slapped the broom out of Richie’s hand and then walked away to go help Justin with an order. 

Goddamnit. 

Fucking Kyle. What a dick. Dude had as many pimples on his face as he did Star Trek facts in his brain. Richie was totally gonna go on a date and it was gonna be _great_ and then Kyle and Justin would see that he wasn’t an ugly loser with no game. 

He was just a loser. 

\---

“Why does your phone keep vibrating? We’re trying to watch a movie, Rich. Cinema rules.” 

He pulled out his phone and opened it up to put it on silent, “Sorry, sorry, it’s just—a friend.” 

Bev raised an eyebrow, “One of the losers? Or did you actually make friends at work?”

“Yeah. Work friend. He’s uh… going through a breakup.” Terrible lie, but it seemed to suit Bev well enough.

Quickly taking in the contents of his screen, he saw that it was a message from some girl on Tinder. He gave her profile a look. Kaley, 18, going to college, loves dogs and likes to play boardgames. Decent girl. This could work. 

Eddie shushed them. “We’re watching a fucking movie, stop talking. I’m gonna miss everything.” 

Bev swatted him and they turned their attention back to the TV, leaving Richie to pay attention to his phone. 

Kaley:  
_So, does working in a theatre mean you get free tickets?_  
_Lol! Just kidding, honest!_

Yeah, this could definitely work.

\---

“I have a date on Friday.” 

His friends looked up from their homework. 

“Wait, like—like an actual date? With a real life girl?” 

Richie frowned, “Yes with a real life girl, what the fuck else would I be going on a date with?” 

Eddie frowned back, “I don’t know, your right hand? Shut up. Who is she?” 

“Her name is Kaley. I think she actually goes to the same college as you guys? We met uh, on Tinder.” 

Beverly gasped, “Tinder?! So _that’s_ why your phone kept going off!”

“Kaley, Kaley,” Eddie mumbled, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know her from my math class and she’s crazy, dude. You shouldn’t go on a date with her. What if she tries to do something weird to you?” 

Okay, that was actually a frightening thought. But Eddie was notoriously an asshole, so he was probably just fucking with him. He scoffed, “What, like, have sex with me in public? No big deal.” 

Eddie threw his stress ball at his head, and Richie ducked, “Dude!” But Eddie bulldozed over him, “That’s not what I meant! She totally wouldn’t even put out! She’s freaky Christian or something. Like, the baby doll shirts and headbands type.” 

No no no, don’t say _that,_ “Well, her profile didn’t say anything about that. How do I know you’re not just jealous because I’m the first one of us to have a date? It’s okay dude, I won’t rub it in your face _that_ much. Just chill out.” 

“Psh. Jealous? Me? No. Never. No Way. Fuck you, okay? I would never be jealous of you. You don’t even know how not-jealous of you that I am constantly—literally just every day of my life,” Eddie denied with manic offense. He started picking up his stuff from the table, “Follow me into the room and I’ll spit on your pillow.” 

Richie was taken aback, “Dude, what? No, you can’t keep me out of the room with threats—” 

“Sorry!” he shouted, back turned as he walked towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna be busy not being jealous of you inside here, okay?!” He slammed the door shut, leaving Richie and Beverly alone in the living room/dining room area.

“I’m not the only one who thought that was weird, right?” 

Bev shook her head, “Definitely not. Do you want me to go check on him?” 

He waved a hand, “Fuckin’... I don’t know. That’s not my business. You can if you want, you don’t have to. It’s whatever.” Solidly Richie for _yes, please._

Beverly nodded and got up, “Alright then. Get started on dinner while I do?” 

“Sure thing.” 

After some mild deliberation, Richie settled on making fettuccine alfredo, but with macaroni noodles instead of the long flat ones, because honestly, what's the fucking difference between pastas? If you put alfredo and chicken over macaroni, it was still chicken alfredo. Like what Chef Boyardee did with all of their crap. They had other stuff, sure, but how much of that was just noodles shoved into a can with acidic tomato sauce? 

Exactly. Bon appétit, you stupid bastards. 

Fuck, why had Eddie gotten all weird like that? _Was_ he just jealous of the date?

Don't think about it, don't think about it, it's not worth overanalyzing. He'd just overthink and get his hopes up and that was the opposite of what he was trying to do! 

_Kaley. Kaley is cute, and fun, and a girl. She might be crazy and Christian, but I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. C'mon, Rich. You're getting over Eddie. You have to._

By the time he'd had the noodles in the pot brought to a boil and chicken sizzling in the skillet, Beverly came back and sat down at the bar. 

"How did it go?"

Her eyes were wide and it seemed like she was staring off into the distance. 

"Uh, good. He'll be okay, eventually." 

Eventually? 

"That's not really a reassuring answer, Bev. It's not even a big deal, what's his problem?" 

Her eyes focused on him and she smiled this sad smile that made panic well up inside of him. "You're right. It's nothing. Like I said, he'll be fine." 

Or so she said. But when Eddie came out for dinner, he grabbed a plate and went back into their room. When Richie knocked, there was no response and he had to undress in the dark and lay down so that way he didn't wake Eddie up. 

\--- 

On Wednesday, Eddie avoided him completely. 

On Thursday, they were around but Eddie had nothing to say. When Richie would prompt conversation, he got clipped responses.

And if Eddie was especially violent with objects around the apartment, Richie didn't say anything. 

On Friday, Richie did both Eddie and himself the favor of staying out of the house himself. It wasn't like he could go two days getting the cold shoulder from his friend and just be okay with it. Sometimes he thought that maybe he should apologize, but they said that kind of shit to each other all the time, and frankly, Richie had no idea what he was supposed to be apologizing for in the first place. So rather than sit around and deal with that shitstorm, he just killed time before his date. 

He showed up ten minutes early and got a seat in the corner, shooting Kaley a quick message to let her know where to find him and then he waited. 

She showed up right on time and he pulled her chair out for her, which got him a polite "thank you" from his date. 

It… was tense. 

"So, it's good to finally meet you. Your pictures don't really do you justice. You're a lot cuter in real life." 

Richie blushed, "Uh, yeah, you too. I mean, you chose good ones though. You got this whole prim and proper vibe, and it carries over, but I didn't expect you have like…the full mile Good Girl appeal, y'know what I mean?" 

Blonde hair and green eyes, her bangs and the length separated by a headband and chubby cheeks. It was wrong, but she was definitely cute. Maybe a little fat, but she wasn't Sonia Kaspbrak, so that was a relief. No women ten times his body mass for old Trashmouth—no matter how many jokes he makes about fucking Eddie's mom. 

Jesus fucking—stop thinking about Eddie! 

She gave him a confused smile, "A good girl vibe, huh?" 

"Yeah, fuckin'—" be cringed, "'Look at me, I don't procrastinate and turn in all my homework on time. I pay taxes and actually follow rules.'" 

Kaley giggled, "So you fancy yourself a bad boy then?" 

"Oh, God no. The second I'm a bad boy is the second Trump is a good president." Goddamnit, don't get political! "I'm a loser," _fuck_ "but I was just making a point. I made good grades in school, I promise." He tapped a finger nervously on the table, "I'm sorry for getting political on the first date. That's crazy, right? Don't do that. Bad idea. What if you're pro-Trump?" 

She raised gave him a curious look, "Would you really want to be on a date with someone who was pro-Trump, though?" 

He shook his head and traded out the finger tapping for jiggling his leg. "Nope, no. Nuh uh." 

She stuck out her hand, "Then nice to meet you, I'm a Democrat." 

He shook her hand, "Nice to meet you too, I haven't voted before." 

She laughed, "Me either. First major election since I turned eighteen." 

"Oh, twins!" 

"Twins! So, twin, have you looked at the menu since you've been here?" 

"I'll be honest, I glanced at it because I was nervous but I didn't consider what to eat." 

"Honesty is always a good place to start, I like to think. Let's give it a look, then. We want to be ready for our waiter." 

Richie flipped open his menu, "See? Total good girl. Who gets ready for waiters? I don't even eat at places with waiters. I'm solidly a drive thru guy." 

"Hopefully not _all_ the time. That'd be terrible for you." 

"Oh, dude, no way. Mostly because I have to pay rent, but I'm pretty sure my roommate would start bitching to me about American obesity rates or something. He's this mega germaphobe hypochondriac and he basically loses his shit every time something gross comes around." Richie resisted the urge to bang his head on the table, "Should I stop cussing? Or talking? Stop me at any time. I talk when I'm nervous." And literally every other feeling, but she didn't need to know that yet.

Kaley smiled, "Nah. Keep going. I'm into it." 

Jesus Christ, she's half-way to perfect. 

The waiter came around not long after they decided on what to eat, and they placed their order. 

"I have these hamsters, right? Like, five of them, but one of the girls gave birth and I ended with twenty at one point, so I was trying to find people to sell hamsters to until I gave up and just tried to give them away but nobody wanted them!" She took a drink, "Eventually it just sort of fixed itself? Because they started eating each other for space." 

"No way! That's fucking sick!"

"Forreal! I was worried they were running away or something, but I noticed a hamster corpse in the cage one day and I got crazy grossed out." 

Richie grimaced, "Ugh, gross. No wonder." 

Death wasn't a great topic, but he brushed it off. Maybe it would help to have someone in his life that wasn't traumatized by Pennywise. Besides, Kaley was so easy to talk to it was almost insane. It was like hanging out with the losers but like… a girl who actually wanted to date him. 

"Have you ever heard someone say some stupid shit like 'I don't know how to bake'? What the fuck does that even mean? You just follow directions on a box and then shove it in the oven for the amount of time it says to. Set a fucking timer, dipshit. Don't go around acting like you're quirky for not being able to bake." 

She slapped the table, "My best friend is like that and I _hate_ it!" 

By the time they finished, they'd really clicked. 

"Well, this has been fun, Richie. Keep in touch to plan for a future date, yeah?" She tippy-toed to kiss him on the cheek and he leaned down a bit to meet her.

"Yeah, of course!" He stood upright. "Let me walk you to your car. It's dark out." 

"Such a gentleman!" 

"You give me too much credit." 

She opened the door and rolled down the window once she was situated. "I'm giving you the perfect amount of credit. Gentleman can be foul-mouthed cinema boys, too." 

"Not to like, have feelings, but I seriously can't believe you actually like me." 

She smiled, "I've got a soft spot for the weird ones. Good night, Richie." 

"G'night, Kaley." 

Overall a major success. Eat shit, Kyle and Justin.

\---

Saturday morning, Eddie had apparently decided that it was time to be antagonistic. 

"How'd your date go? Did she start citing scriptures when you when you accidentally started cussing? 'Cause I already know you don't have a filter. You just yap and yap and yap and yap and yap," he said, rapid-fire with a talking hand, "talking out your ass, cause you're an idiot." 

"Dude!" Ouch?? 

"She totally did. She was all, First Corinthians Six, Nine, God hates people who fuck, and then she iced your horny ass." 

"She did not!" Richie slapped at him, and Eddie slapped back, which led to one of many slapfights in the apartment. "She was great!" 

At that, Eddie aimed for his face and slapped Richie's cheek. He gasped and Eddie's jaw dropped. This was getting really serious. And a little bit sexy, but now was definitely not the fucking time.

"What's your problem?!" 

"Why don't you _know?!"_ Eddie got up and stormed away. 

"What the hell does that mean?!" 

\--- 

It became a thing. Eddie started going out his way to irritate Richie more, and it was frustrating and confusing. 

All he could think about after four days of constant irritation was when Eddie was going to strike next. Leaving the apartment was his only safe haven, and that was almost enough to piss him off. He worked, and cleaned, and when he was finished, he couldn't even lay down because Eddie would come into the room and literally flop down on top of him. 

Having Eddie that close to him was hell. Junk on junk, the weight of Eddie on top of him, his breath ghosting against his lips, their faces inches apart, and all for a _fight._ A fucking fight. It was like this shitty glimpse of what could be hidden behind this thick layer of bullshit. Hands on each other, frustrating brushes of fingers against palms and Eddie splayed out underneath him after Richie had pushed him off the bed. 

His pained groan was practically pornographic, and for as fucked up as it was to think so, Richie still had to run out of the room and jerk off because the adrenaline and the images and the _sound_ drove him nuts. 

One step forward, one step back. 

They weren't really dating yet—in the boyfriend/girlfriend sense—but was this cheating? It was hard being bisexual. With Eddie being there all the time and working him up, and with Kaley being so cute and nice and taking things slow. They hadn't even had a second date yet, maybe more for scheduling reasons, but still. It was just cutesey, conversational messages back and forth for days. 

He should be angrier, he really should, and he _was_ angry, but somehow it was so _good._ It was the reason Richie always annoyed Eddie! He wanted his attention, wanted to know he wasn't looking at or thinking about anyone but him, because he couldn't have more than those moments. His undivided attention was like a drug, and now he didn't even have to earn it! 

Yeah, he was jacking off way more than usual, and he was usually pissed off, rushed and horny beyond belief, but it almost felt worth it. 

Was it inconvenient to wait hours after the fact to rub one out in the bathroom so that Eddie couldn't put two and two together where he and how much Richie was going at it were concerned? Oh, one-hundred percent. It was enough to make him grind his teeth and wanna wring Eddie by his scrawny neck, but it was still so, so good. 

He felt disgusting. He was addicted. 

Like a true addict, his interest in replies from Kaley weaned and all he could think about was Eddie. 

Maybe he could start his own fight? Goad Eddie into a second one, imagine fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him in for a hot, sloppy make out. 

Eddie pushing him back against the couch and biting his lower lip, kissing and sucking and biting at his neck, pinching him passive-aggressively because he such an asshole—the biggest asshole in such a small body, like a shitty chihuahua. As shivery and angry and close to hell as one. 

Pet play Eddie? Eddie treating him like his bitch. 

Richie's eyes fluttered shut as he came across his hand for the second time that day and he slumped back against the water-flushy-whatever-the-fuck-that-part-of-a-toilet-was-called and took a second to catch his breath. 

Holding your breath while masturbating? Peak. Loud, though. He held it to listen for noise and upon hearing none, still tried to quiet his breathing.

He felt boneless and dissatisfied. How could someone be so horny for one person and also so ashamed of it? He always came back to asking himself what was wrong with him, and the answer was honestly just…so much. Too much.

\---

In the aftermath of yet another fight, Richie was out on the couch with Netflix playing idly in the background while he played some app on his phone. 

Cleaning himself up was gross and annoying, and he was mad about _that_ too. 

Poor Beverly attempted damage control yesterday and had to deal with her roommates acting like overgrown, obstinate children, so she'd dipped. She said she'd be back when they managed to work their shit out, but as the day was going, things weren't looking promising. It probably didn't help that they had to share a room at night, so when Bev had left for Ben's place, Richie had gathered up his bedding and stole her room. She wouldn't have to know, and if it helped the situation, maybe it was for the best.

Eddie came out of their room and glared at him, so Richie sat up. 

A burning question found its way into his head.

"Hey, Eddie. Out of the shit your mom had you take, was any of that real?" He'd never asked, and it was a genuine question. 

"Are you trying to start another fight? Because I'm not fighting with you again. I'm tired."

"No, I mean it." 

Eddie's expression slackened and he sighed. "Yeah, ADHD meds. I took Vyvanse for awhile and after I stopped taking my meds my symptoms flared up, so I had to find out what was actually wrong with me." He opened the fridge and clattered around while Richie considered this. 

Richie cleared his throat and stood up, "Do you—do you think maybe I could have ADHD too?" 

The fridge slammed shut and Eddie dropped the juice jug onto the counter, "Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if you did. You're hyperactive, impulsive and you tap like nuts all the time. Plus I'm pretty sure you've forgotten to put deodorant on like, four different times now." 

Heat filled Richie's face and he looked away, "I was trying to work on that." 

"Is that what all the sticky notes and crap were for?" 

"I thought they would help. It was in some article about how to cope with adult ADHD." 

Eddie poured himself some juice and shrugged, "If you think it'll help, then try."

Richie sat down on a stool, "The only reason I didn't was 'cause you made me feel stupid for it. Calling me a PTA mom and shit. I already thought I was weird for having to do it, but then you just—" he scrubbed his hands down his face. 

"Who cares what I think, dude? I'm an asshole. Put your fucking sticky notes wherever you need to. I'm probably gonna make fun of you but that's just how we are. I get it, it's just… y'know." 

"Yeah. That's just how we are." He tapped a finger on the counter. "Thanks. For talking about this with me. I know you think I shouldn't care about what you think, but I do." 

Eddie tensed up as he put the juice back and turned away from the fridge, "I know." He took a drink and they sat there in a heavy silence. "Are you gonna see about medicine? I mean… what's your play, dude?" 

Richie shrugged. "Pills are kinda stupid. I don't think I'd remember to take them anyways? I might just see how the post-it notes work out and go from there." 

His friend nodded, "Well, I hope it works for you. Pills definitely suck." And with that, he ended the conversation by walking away. 

_Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go._

He was still wearing those tiny fucking shorts from when they were thirteen, and the dude was all legs. He made Richie a leg man. Those legs played a solid part in the fact that he went wild for hips, thighs and calves. 

Tight ass, Kaspbrak. 

Did he know? He had to know.

He just _wore_ shorts because that was his thing—Richie had no doubt that it was legitimately just a fashion choice and not a purposefully play—but that didn't mean he couldn't _know._

He needed to message Kaley. 

\--- 

Richie rode his bike to the campus so he could meet her, because he liked to think he had some fucking manners. 

Kaley was standing outside in her pajamas, and she looked so fucking cute. 

"I know how I am and I know that if I don't just say it I'm gonna pussy out, so I wanted to meet to tell you that I'm in love with someone else. I have been for almost six years. I was trying to move on, but it's just... it's not gonna happen. I don't want to waste your time, because you deserve way better than that—you're literally amazing, but I—" 

She stepped forward and pulled him in for a hug. 

Richie wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. It was a longer hug than he expected from someone he'd only met once in person, but maybe a few weeks of texting can really bring people that close. He definitely wasn't complaining. 

When she finally pulled away, he noticed she had tears in her eyes, and be face was red. He was tearing up a little bit too, which was super awkward, but he let out a wet laugh. "You're crazy soft." 

She laughed back and covered her face as tears started falling. "Thank you. Uhm, sorry about the tears I-I cry easily." 

"It's alright." He ran a hand through the back of his hair. "Can I tell you something stupid and gross?" 

Kaley nodded. 

"I don't know how Democrats feel about gay people, but it's my best friend. The germaphobe. He's been doing nothing but kicking my ass all week, like, literally kicking me. It hurts. He's so small but he has so much leg strength." He sniffled, "None of my best friends even know I'm bi and I don't really know what to do, but I want to still be friends if you're cool with the like—the whole being gay and in love with one of my best friends thing." 

Kaley nodded again and this time Richie hugged her. 

This one was a lot shorter. 

"I could tell something was off, so uhm, thanks. For being honest. Also, Democrats like gays. Usually. I don't mind them." 

"I'm usually not this mature, I gotta be honest, but thank you. It's cold, so I'll let you get back inside. Sorry, Kaley." 

She shook her head, "It's okay. But—Richie. You should tell him." 

He tensed up, considering this. "I think I might."


	4. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haha just kidding.... unless?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty sure im slowly losing my sanity? i only feel like i actually have any mental clarity when im driving, which i guess is good since thats the most important time for it but cmon man, that's only like 20 minutes a day, max. watch that be the content for my first lo-fi indie emo single, though. ill be the new fredo disco
> 
> oh yeah, also, warning for gay slurs by gay people. which is gonna be a trend that guest stars here and there, cause its IT

Both fortunately and unfortunately, the ADHD talk did nothing to dissuade the constant attacks. 

"Oh, look who's back, just get done playing tonsil hockey with the bible thumper?" 

It was now two days after the Kaley thing and he hadn't told anyone he'd called it off. So, Eddie was still initiating fights and being way too touchy feely for someone who was straight. 

But… y'know, maybe he wasn't! It was something Richie hadn't really let himself consider outside of wild hopes and some oddly slutty dreams, but that could be real, right?

"Yep. We frenched like we were in Paris, but I was her delicate french girl, hungry for tongue." Richie tossed aside his movie hat and threw his legs over Eddie's thighs, "Ooh, what're we watching?" 

Eddie pushed his legs off, "You're fucking gross, I don't wanna know how you kiss her!"

"Then why'd you ask, dipshit?"

Eddie pushed at him, but Richie went dead weight on the couch, "I only asked if it happened, not for details! You're such an asshole!! Get off of the couch—go away! I hate you! You suck balls!" 

Richie fake yawned, "Tough tiddies dude, I just got off work and I'm tired. You just look so comfortable, like a little pillow. Let me lay my weary head to rest." 

"Don't quote your crappy emo music at me." He kept trying to push Richie off to no avail, "Why are you so fucking big?!" 

"Say that when we're doing something sexier, huh?" 

Eddie screeched, "Get off of me!!" 

Richie rolled off and let him go. 

He got a middle finger for his efforts.

\---

How do you test to see if someone is gay without being weird about it? 

The answer was probably just to ask Eddie outright, but that seemed like the weirdest possible choice. Richie could easily imagine being asked why he wanted to know, or raising suspicion about his own sexuality, which was definitely not on the table yet.

But then… shouldn’t he be coming out and not just scoping his prospects with Eddie? Shit, if he was gay, that was just something everyone was going to have to deal with, or else he’d have to find new friends. Eugh… that was so much work, though. At that rate, he might as well hide in the closet and marry a woman. There was a fifty-fifty chance he’d head in that direction anyways, if things with Eddie didn’t pan out.

Richie got up off the couch and knocked on Beverly’s door. She answered shortly, pulling her robe tighter around herself. 

“Yeah?” Whoa, way to sound breathless there, Bev. 

“Hey, just a quick question, sorry to interrupt, but are you a Democrat?” 

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, “Am I a Democrat?”

“Yeah. Y’know. Blue party. Whoo elephants!” 

She tucked some hair behind her ear, “The Democrats are donkeys, hon.” Shit. “And to be honest, I don’t really care that much about politics but I guess… if I did, I could see myself being a Democrat?”

He nodded, “Cool, cool, so like, you’re liberal, then?” 

Beverly looked suspicious. Uh oh? _Please don’t let her be onto me._

“If this is about Eddie—”

“What? Eddie? No way. What? Why would this be about Eddie?” He glanced over his shoulder to an empty living room and then turned back, “Is Eddie a Republican?”

“No, he’s not a Republican! Richie,” oh boy, the exasperation was strong with this one, “what are you talking about? Why are you asking about our political parties?”

“Uh, maybe because there’s an election coming up and I’d like to compare opinions on the candidates? Voting is important, Bev. Have you registered?” 

The look on her face told him she knew he was bullshitting. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I dunno… Democrats usually like gays?” 

The inhale that Beverly took made Richie’s anxiety spike and his stomach felt like curdled milk. She pulled the door closed behind her and they moved the conversation a step further into the living room. “Richie, are _you_ a Democrat?”

Suddenly, he needed something to do with his hands. He clenched them into fists and started knocking them together, looking down at them to avoid Beverly’s gaze. “I’m kind of an independent voter?” His voice sounded weak to his own ears and he winced. 

He glanced up to watch as she tied her robe closed and then he was being pulled into a hug. “I really don't know what this is supposed to mean, Rich.” 

“I’m bi and I don’t want you guys to hate me,” he supplied, and the next breath he took was far too shuddery for his liking. 

The hug tightened around him, “Richie, none of us would hate you for being bi. I promise.” When he relaxed in her arms, she gave an amused huff, “I can’t believe you tried to probe my stance on gays by asking about political parties. And referring to bi as being an independent voter? Honestly.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed weakly, “That was dumb. It wasn’t even a solid metaphor.”

“It really wasn’t. I would be a Democrat, but I’m not gay.” 

“Well, that makes one of us.” 

Beverly pulled away with a smile, “You having fun now that you got it out there?”

“Oh definitely. Prepare for a fucking tidal wave of gay jokes.” 

Bev put her face in her hands, “Knowing you this is gonna be the worst.” 

“Jeeze, Bev, is that homophobia I hear?” She slapped his arm and he laughed, “I’m kidding, obviously!” He swallowed, “Seriously, though. Thank you.” 

“Of course, Richie. Now go. You have another roommate to come out to, if you’re up to it.”

He shrugged, “We’ll see?”

She patted him and went back into her room through a suspiciously small crack of space. _But that’s none of my business._

Back in his own room, though, Richie froze. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor as Eddie played some stupid game on his phone. The music was irritating and the vague feeling of anxiety— in addition to that God forsaken audio—made his stomach feel like someone was shaking up a plastic bag full of aquarium rocks inside.

_Come on. Just blurt it out. You’re good at that. You do it literally all the time, and now you’re gonna choke? What a pussy. You are what you’re gonna eat for the rest of your life, pussyboy._

He rolled his eyes and started, “Hey, Eds,” which got him a scoff, “are you a Democrat?” Not this shit again. It was the first thing to fall out of his mouth and he immediately regretted it.

“Fuck no. I’m a Libertarian.”

“Y-You’re a—?” What the fuck was a Libertarian? “Cool. Okay. Nevermind.” He laid down and stared up at the ceiling. 

Goddamnit.

\---

Today was the day. He was gonna tell Eddie he was bi and then he’d see where things went from there. No problem. He had this. Cool as a cucumber—that was Richie Tozier. The coolest. So cool. He was basically a fucking freezer, he was _that_ ice cold.

Buuuut there was a bump in the road.

Namely, Eddie’s ass. God, that ass. He was bent over trying to rummage around under the stove for their cupcake pan, and Richie couldn’t be more blessed. It was just so grabbable. Too bad he was sitting on a barstool on the other side of the implied bar and well without his rights to touch. 

A man could dream though. And this man had. Many times. Which was the source of a lot of self-hate and awkward boners, but that was all about to change! Hopefully.

“I swear we have a fucking cupcake pan, why can’t I find it?!” Eddie stood upright and looked around the kitchen, glaring at everything around him as if he could scare it into showing itself. “There!” It had been put in the bucket of plastic containers they’d collected, upright and out of place. “Did you put this in there? I swear I’ll kick your ass.”

Speaking of ass, Eddie was bending over again. 

“Why do you just instantly blame me? I haven’t baked since Bev had her period and started crying, and that was like, last month. It was probably Ben—remember? He had that whole bake sale for charity thing or whatever." He hadn't even given them thank-you cupcakes. Rude. "Bev isn't on her period again, is she?" 

"No," he set the pan down on the counter and started getting everything else he would need. "I just want cupcakes." 

Phew, dodged a bullet. Beverly was the best, but there was definitely a lot of emotional catering to be done when she was menstruating, and Richie wasn't really the emotional catering type. Did he try? Yeah. He could comfort a friend no problem, but Eddie was years worth of evidence that shit got away from him when he was supposed to watch himself twenty-four/seven.

He was Trashmouth for a reason, after all.

They fell into a silence that wasn't necessarily comfortable, but it wasn't tense either. More aptly described, it was probably just a pregnant pause, because Richie chose a beat after that moment to blurt out, "Me and Kaley are just friends." 

Eddie looked up at him from where he was getting eggs out of the fridge.

Fuck that's way too obvious. "I mean, we decided to just be friends. Because she's—" _think, think, think,_ "A lesbian." 

The fridge closed and Eddie stood. "So you went on a date with a lesbian?" The judgement in his voice was harsh.

He watched as Eddie set the eggs down. "Uh, well, she was trying to be—y'know—not a lesbian. But it didn't work." 

"Oh." Cut open the mix, measure out oil. "So you're gonna find some other girl now?" He looked Richie right in the eyes as he tipped the oil into the bowl. 

Should he feel weirdly threatened right now? Because he did. Threatened, and kinda horny. Fear was playing a much larger part in his sexuality than Richie had realized.

"No. I think I'm done with that for now. Might just, like, get a hobby or something." 

Eddie frowned and started cracking eggs. "If that's what you wanna do." 

He tapped a nail on the counter, one leg jiggling nervously, "Yeah, that sounds good for now." The tapping turned into a fist, his knuckles rapping lightly against the fake granite, "So like… nothing about the lesbian thing? Because we're friends now. So you might meet her. And she's gonna be a lesbian." 

"Why do I care who she does and doesn't wanna bone? That's gross."

Richie shrugged, "Fair enough." He let his cheek rest in his palm and kept knocking it against the counter as he watched Eddie finish up the batter and start pouring it into the little cupcake papers. 

When Eddie finally put the pan into the oven, he set a timer and turned around. "Do you think you'd like something made for messing around with? So you don't have to tap and knock?" 

"Uh, what? They have stuff like that?" 

"Yeah, it's for like, autism and stuff. ADHD isn't autism but it's kind of in the same area, and they make them so anyone can buy them." 

He shrugged, "Then sure, yeah. That sounds good. Thanks." 

"No problem. I have to shit now." 

Richie threw his head back, "I didn't want to know that." 

He rocked it back into position just in time to see Eddie stick his tongue out at him and shoot him the finger before he turning the corner. 

\---

_Today's_ the day. 

He got home ten minutes ago with a text that said Eddie's shift was running late, and since it was late, they could talk about it and then Richie could sleep like a baby. 

Except, when Eddie came home, he was wearing sunglasses and was ornery as fuck. 

"Are you wearing sunglasses inside?" 

"Oh yeah, you're gonna dunk on me right now? Look who's talking—you're wearing a shirt with anime characters on it. Don't talk to me while you're wearing that, or else someone might think I'm a dweeb too and then I'll get roped into talking about hentai or something." 

Nevermind that they were in the apartment and that Beverly didn't care—Richie had seen enough movies. This shit was classic. "Eddie, take them off, c'mon." He made his way closer.

Eddie held his arms out to keep Richie at bay. "No, I'm fine, fuck off! God, you're corralling me into the corner like a fucking border collie!" 

"You don't have to hide your black eye under your sunglasses, Eds. Just take 'em off and we can put some ice in a bag like they do in elementary." 

The vehement sigh that he got in response was quickly followed by Eddie slipping them off. 

"Holy shit." That was _bad._

"I don't want to talk about it so don't fucking ask."

Richie raised his hands in a placating gesture, "Okay, fine, just don't hide it, 'cause that's stupid." 

His friend shoved past him and into the kitchen to take care of it himself, so Richie followed just to watch. A lot of questions were bubbling under the surface, but Richie was trying hard to respect that Eddie didn't want to talk about it. 

Once Eddie sealed up the ziplock bag and pressed the ice to his eye, he sighed in relief and slumped back against the fridge. 

Richie was tense. To say he was worried would be an understatement, but there wasn't really anything he could do. 

"One question?" 

"One, and if I don't like it I'm not gonna answer." 

Okay, valid. "Was this on campus or at work?" 

"Work." 

“Did you talk to management about it? People can’t just punch you in the face at work, Eds.”

Eddie frowned, “You said one question and I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Immediately, anger bubbled up and Richie couldn't get a good handle on it, so he left the kitchen and started towards their room. 

"Richie?" 

He turned to see Eddie's concerned look. "I need to lay down. I know that probably sounds stupid since you're the one who got punched in the fucking face but I'm like five seconds from going apeshit."

Eddie let him go and Richie crawled into bed. It was restless anger; the need to scream and hit and _move,_ but he wasn't able to do any of that. Screaming would make him look like a psycho, and he couldn't just go around hitting shit, so the best he could do was lay down and seethe. 

It felt like such an overreaction. He didn't even have any details. But knowing that his best friend was getting into fights at work and was now coming home with a black eye hit him hard. 

Maybe that wasn't completely unimaginable, if Eddie had his own Kyle who was less _dork_ and more _danger._ Eddie ran his mouth just as much as Richie did, he just didn't really have the physique to suit his mouth. It also didn't really help that people around here seemed like they were way more aggressive than they needed to be—it made Canada sound like Heaven on Earth, and that didn't even scratch the surface on _Canada's_ issues. 

Fuckin’ Canada, man.

\---

It was a decent amount of time before the anger faded and left him tired. 

He stripped down to his shirt and boxers before laying back down for the night, and not too long after that, Eddie came in. 

Richie kept his back to him and stared at the wall, keeping his breaths even to try and prevent reigniting his rage. 

The powerlessness was suffocating. Somehow, not being told what had happened exacerbated that feeling and twisted into up into something pathetic that sat like a rock in his chest. 

Eddie shuffled around for a bit and eventually turned off the light. He situated himself in bed with a prolonged and irritating series of rustling sheets and creaking springs before settling into the near-silence of their bedroom. 

They really needed to talk to the landlord about the shaky ceiling fan. 

Right on an inhale, Eddie's voice had him catch his breath.

It's quiet, and sad, like it hurts to talk about as much as he's afraid he's going to wake Richie up. "They called me a fairy and punched me for not being manly enough. Like it fucking matters. They treat me like I’m five feet tall, ninety pounds and faggoty as shit, but I'm _not._ No one even knew I was gay until I told them so what the fuck would they know?" 

Richie tried to keep his breathing even. He wasn't supposed to be hearing this. If Eddie knew he was awake he would have said something earlier, right?

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you." 

After that, it was silent, save for Eddie rolling over to presumably face the wall on his side. 

No antagonizing for a response. Just an admission to a sleeping friend. 

Richie felt sick.


	5. Let's Try This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Richie is a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i got sick and the mood of the week is trying to write porn as a fever delirious virgin, which doesn't apply here, not to get your hopes up. im still trying to work on future chapters, but they keep getting longer and im afraid. this is gonna be my longest fic ever by the time im done with it
> 
> anyways, consider richie but he's the mayhem actor from the allstate commercials. i guess especially the cat one? but yeah. chaotic energy through the roof (literally, in mayhem's case)

Richie gave Eddie a thoughtless poke on the arm.

“Stop.”

“Okay.” 

The show kept playing on the TV and who knows how long later, Richie poked him again. 

“Dude, I literally just told you to stop!” 

“I’m sorry! It just kind of keeps happening!” Which was the truth. It was a completely impulsive thing that he couldn’t quite stifle. His brain said poke Eddie, so Richie poked Eddie. Simple as that.

Eddie put his face in his hands, “God I wish it was Christmas already. You make me want to give you your gift early almost every day of your life.” 

“How will my Christmas gift fix me poking you?”

His friend glared at him, “Don’t probe, Trashbag, or I’ll flick you.” He held his fingers up to demonstrate he was willing to make good on that.

Richie leaned closer to the arm on his side of the couch so he could get some distance between them, “Got it, jeeze. Why does everyone in this apartment feel the need to threaten me? I’m like the world’s sexiest punching bag to you two. Where’s the love? Where’s the respect?”

“You’re a hyperactive rat and whether or not you’re actually domesticated is still up for debate, don’t act like you’re oppressed, you big baby.” 

“Ouch. You’re so feisty today. It’s cute. Have you—” Richie yelped as Eddie flicked him. 

“Call me cute again and I come in dual-wielding.” 

“Right, no, yeah, of course,” Richie scooted towards the edge of the couch, “I mean, cute? You’re definitely more hot, or even sexy—” he hopped up as Eddie tried to flick him again. Unlike with the underwear incident, though, Eddie didn’t give chase. He just fell back and sighed. 

“Dude?” 

“I’m tired.” 

Which was really just code for depressed. He hadn’t said anything, but Richie could tell from the low energy and general lack of expression that Eddie had been sporting for the past few days now. He looked especially pathetic with a black eye, but at least it wasn’t dark and swollen anymore. Now it was more like a yellow eye. Which kind of sounded like jaundice, so maybe it was better to keep calling it a black eye, color be damned.

Richie sat back down and fisted the fabric of his pants. “Can I say something that might help but also might make things worse?”

Eddie gave him an apprehensive look. 

“I’ll just say it then. Uh,” he really didn’t want to do this now, but he knew that Eddie would let him back out since he wasn’t in peak condition, so he had to force himself to continue, “I wasn’t asleep that night. When you told me what happened.” 

Eddie looked like he’s been slapped. “No…” 

“But—! It’s okay?” Third times the charm? “Because I’m bi, so like, I get it. Kind of. I mean, obviously I wasn’t punched at work, but Bowers and his gang used to call me a fairy and one time they ran me out of the arcade because his cousin told everyone I was trying to hit on him so, like—y’know—it’s like that.”

The slapped expression had made way for something unreadable after Richie finally stopped talking. “You’re bi?” 

“Yeah! Funny story about that, actually—I lied.” Ignoring Eddie’s face to barrel forward, “Kaley isn’t a lesbian, I just didn’t know how else to see if you were okay with gay people? Because I’ve been trying to come out to you since I called it off with her but I was afraid you guys would hate me or something, and when I asked if you were a Democrat you told me you were a Libertarian which… Libertarian, dude? What the fuck even is that?”

Eddie laid his head on the armrest and closed his eyes. “They’re socially liberal and fiscally conservative.”

“Oh.” He tried to figure out how that would work into his metaphor, but the answer was that it was a garbage metaphor and not worth wasting his last two brain cells on.

“So we’ve both been gay this whole time?” Suggestive wording there, Eds. 

“Well, I don’t know how long _you’ve_ been gay but _I’ve_ been gay his whole time, yeah.” 

Eddie opened his eyes, “The _whole_ time?” And so a challenge was issued. 

“Yeah. The whole time. Fuck you, you think you’ve been gay longer than me?”

“Duh. Obviously.”

“First crush on a boy?” 

“Twelve.” 

“Seven.” 

Eddie sat up, “Oh bullshit! You can’t remember anything about being seven years old!”

Richie puffed up, “I can too! I remember that one time you tripped and scraped your knee and your mom didn’t let you leave the house until Monday for school!”

“Fine! Then mine was when I was nine!”

“So I win, then!”

Eddie glared at him. “Yeah, if you still wanna play that game.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I know you have like, three brain cells at best, but try clacking them together a little harder huh, Einstein?” And with that, Eddie got up. 

“You’ve really gotta stop ending conversations by leaving the room, dude!”

Eddie flipped him the bird and left through the front door.

So now Richie was left alone to attempt clacking his brain cells together per his friend’s instructions. Truly a momentous effort, because he was stupid, and his brain was just a collective of raisins shoved inside his skull and compacted into a single mass.

“Raisin brain.” Like a reject name for the commercial Raisin Bran™ cereal.

He racked his mind for an answer but nothing was coming to him, so he picked up his phone and called Eddie. 

Surprisingly, he answered. 

“Did you figure it out?” 

Richie got up to pace as they talked. “Nope. But I did want to ask, have you noticed how shitty at communicating we are? This is a legitimate concern. We’ve been friends since kindergarten, Eds, we need to figure this shit out ASAP.”

“Then stop joking your way out of your feelings and changing the subject all the time.” 

“Okay, then you stop leaving rooms and getting angry about everything.”

“Okay then.”

“Nuh uh. That’s not good enough. Come back and spit into your palm so we can seal the deal the Peter Pan way.”

“That’s disgusting and I’m not fucking doing that.”

With faux-heartbreak dripping from his words, Richie responded with woe, “Then I guess this pact doesn’t actually mean anything to you.”

Eddie was silent on the line for a moment before he responded, begrudgingly, “Fine. But no spit.

“You’re not far away are you? I swear I was only thinking for five minutes, tops.” 

“I was getting the mail, I’ll be up in a sec.”

"Oh, cool.” He was afraid Eddie had actually left the building. Then again, Richie was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing shoes, so that would have sucked for him if he had. “Stay on the line with me until you back?" 

"Please tell me you realize how gay that sounded." 

Richie's palm hit his forehead, and he hung up in panic. Oh, Jesus, what was that? He might as well be twirling the phone cord around his finger with that shit!

Wait! Fuck!

He called back and Eddie answered immediately. "Dude!" 

"I know, I know! I panicked!" 

Eddie's voice was right outside the door, and he opened it halfway through saying, "Why are you panicking? You're (literally) gay." He hung up as soon as he was in the living room, now staring down Richie who didn't know how to respond. 

"I was just…" choose your words carefully, "embarrassed? … I don't want to be a stereotype." Nailed it? Question mark? 

"I have bad news, then, buddy." Eddie placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture a little awkward with their four inch height difference, "You're a stereotypical idiot." 

Damn. "You got me. That's so-lid." Oh God, not a voice crack. He cleared his throat. "Yep." He swatted Eddie's hand off of his shoulder. “From here on out then?” He held out his hand for Eddie to shake.

His friend’s shook on it with a firm grip. “Deal.”

"So, nine?" 

Eddie's face flushed red and Richie felt his heart pick up. "It's—fuck. It was the first time we ever held hands." He looked away, physically cringing as much as he could while standing. 

"Wait so—"

Eddie glared at him, "Yeah, you were my first crush. Laugh it up, chucklefuck. See if I don't still flick you." 

"But I'm not _still—?"_

"No!" Eddie raised his hands, "No, no. No. No. _No."_ He crossed his arms defensively. _"God,_ no. That would be stupid. Ridiculous. Who even crushes on someone since they're nine? That's dumb. And gross. _So_ gross. You're gross. Why would I ever like you? Now, I mean. 'Cause obviously I did before—but not anymore, right?" 

"Right."

"Right! Exactly! 'Cause that's what I'm saying. I _don't_ like you." 

Richie's smile was huge. "Dude, I totally know you're lying right now. You just pulled a Richie." 

Eddie flushed even brighter and pushed at him, "Shut up! Don't call it that! I'm my own person and I _don't_ like you!" 

"You do, though! You totally do! You have a big, fat crush on me! I bet it's as big as your mom!" Eddie started shouting at him but Richie needed a moment, "Fuck, look at how red you are!"

He went to pinch Eddie's cheeks and Eddie slapped his hands away. "Don't make fun of me!" 

Yikes, he sounded hurt. Damage control.

"N-no! I mean, yeah, but no dude I-I like you back!" Richie pulled his hands away and wrapped one around the other like an anchor. "You're not my first crush but you're still my longest one!" 

The sudden flash of jealous rage on Eddie’s face was off-putting and arousing at the same time. This was becoming a major problem. Specifically in his pants. He had bigger problems to deal with upstairs than _fear boners._

"Who's the first?" 

"Oh my God, are you jealous again?" 

"Just answer the question!"

Richie's mind blanked under the pressure, "Uh, I don't remember! It was just some dude and I only liked him because he could run really fast!"

Eddie's shoulders slumped and he sighed, "Jesus Christ." 

"Oh like you didn't probably have a crush on me for something stupid. Don't sound so relieved, asshole." At his accusation, Eddie flushed brighter, and boy was his face spilling all of his secrets today. "C'mon. What was it?" 

"No,” Jesus, he’s so _cute_ when he’s embarrassed.

"Tell me."

"You're gonna laugh and if you do, I'll have to punch you." 

He held out his pinkie, "Swear I won't. C'mon, I wanna know." He wiggled it, as if it would bait Eddie into agreeing. And it worked, but if Richie had to guess, making a squirmy wormy out of his smallest finger wasn't what broke him. A disappointing possibility, but the most likely one. 

Eddie wrapped his pinkie around Richie’s and then mumbled his reply into his shoulder. 

"Don't do that shit." 

"It was your glasses!" God, he was like if Rudolph's nose was an entire face. "You push them up when they slide down your nose and I just—" he bit his lip, "I have no idea why I like that! At first it was like 'wow, yeah, that's cute' but now it makes me wanna jump your bones and I can't—!" He made a fist in lieu of words, his whole body shaking with the clench. 

Richie looked at his fist and then at Eddie.

He brandished a finger.

"No, don't." It was a literal plea. 

Richie lifted his finger until it was an inch from his face.

"Richie, _please."_

He pushed his glasses up his nose and Eddie groaned with exaggerated, horny frustration. "How are you allowed to _do_ that?" 

Richie shrugged his shoulders and tried to look aloof. "I can do other stuff." 

Eddie's eyes widened, intrigued. "Like?"

Shit, he didn't actually think this through. Eddie just had this hungry look on his face and Richie wanted more, so his mouth spoke and his brain lagged behind like a shitty laptop.

He squinted and popped the first button on his shirt.

Eddie nodded, mesmerized. "Do it again."

"What, like, rebutton it and do it a second time or—?" 

Eddie waved him off, with one of those of stupid mouth smacky sounds accompanying it. "You killed the mood. Why would I want you to rebutton it? You're supposed to be eye candy, not a morosexual's wet dream, dumbass." 

"What the fuck is a morosexual?"

"What do you mean _'what is a morosexual'_ you spend all that fucking time on the internet and haven't heard about morosexuals?" 

"Obviously not!" 

"I love you, but you're a disappointment. If you tell me that you look at memes on Instagram, I'll break up with you before we've even started dating."

Richie winced. 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, "I hate that I'm willing to go back on my word for you. What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"A whole lot more than I thought, apparently. Now, what's a morosexual? And most importantly, are you one?"

"Yes and no. In theory idiots are entertaining, but genuinely stupid people piss me off and I can't stand being around them." 

"You call me stupid all the time, though." 

"Yeah, but I don't actually mean it. You're smart, you just don't have good common sense." He gave Richie a consolatory pat on the arm. "That makes you vaguely irritating and worth calling names, but I don't actually hate talking to you."

Richie nodded, considering. "I think I hate literally everything you just said." 

"Understandable. Look, as long as you know that I don't actually mean any of the things I say about your intelligence, I'll count it as a win." 

"You get a little mean," Richie stated, matter-of-fact, "but I can't say I'm not at least a little bit into it."

"And that's where safewords come in." 

"God, you're a freak." 

Eddie scoffed, "I've seen your internet history."

"Permission to leave the room?"

"Why?"

"I need to go clear my internet history."

"Get out of here, you dirty bastard." 

Richie started towards their bedroom to get his laptop. He turned so he could talk and walk backwards, "While I'm doing that, you brainstorm the safeword. I feel like I'm gonna need that sooner rather than later."

"See? I told you you're smart."

\---

The next morning, Richie was determined to talk more about things. Thinking on it later last night, he’d realized they kiiind of forgot to actually discuss what it meant now that their mutual crush was out in the open. 

Eddie didnt have a morning class, which meant he’d sleep in late and they would have a chance to talk. 

But when he rolled over to get out of bed, Eddie wasn’t asleep in his. 

Weird, but alright. Maybe he was getting a head start.

Richie got dressed in something a little better than usual because, hey, they could maybe take a walk… make it a thing. A date thing. Maybe. He pulled his pants up over one leg and felt hope twist inside his chest. It was pretty much a sure thing, right? If they like each other? 

He rushed to get ready and then went to go see if Eddie was somewhere in the rest of the apartment. 

Quick check, and no. But he _could_ hear Bev’s voice through the door, so he jogged over to pull it open. 

She was standing there with Eddie looking at something on his phone. 

“Hey guys!” 

“Alright, Stan says he’s almost here so we should head down.” 

Well, a hello would have been nice.

The two of them adjusted their bags and scarves and then they were heading downstairs towards the front of the building. Richie followed after them. “Am I invited, am I not? What's the sitch?" But neither of them said anything. "Hey. This isn’t funny, we’re not playing _Richie Is Invisible_ again. I punched Stan last time and he didn’t talk to me for a week.” 

Still, no response. And let it be clear that Richie was doing his utmost to be a nuisance. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from normal annoyance, he was willing to get offensive. Not that it did any good! Not the entire way down the stairs, or in the lobby, where Stan was waiting with Bill. 

Richie stomped to clear the space between them, “Stop ignoring me! This isn’t fucking funny!” 

But once again, no one paid any attention to him. It was like Stan was looking right through his body as Bev and Eddie greeted their friends, and— losing his temper— Richie tried to push Bill to get his attention. And that might have worked! _If_ his hands hadn't gone through his friend like he was a fucking ghost. 

The anger drained and panic took its place. He looked around, paranoid now. This was a mindfuck and it was just like Pennywise to pull this shit. 

Turning frantically to see if he could spot him somewhere, Richie caught sight of a missing person’s poster with his face on it stuck to the board by the maintenance office. “No.” He ran over to tear it down, but his hands went through the paper—through the board and the wall and _everything._ A mantra of _no_ fell out of his mouth, doing little to drown out the tinkling circus music that started blasting all around him. He pressed his palms over his ears to block out the sound and Richie dropped to knees.

That was enough to startle him out of his panic, though, because the sensation of his knees hitting the tile was in time with his sleeping body rolling out of bed and hitting the floor. 

Immediately, Richie scrambled into an upright position and pulled his blanket around himself for comfort. Eddie was asleep in his own bed—the way it should have been—and Richie used that as anchor to pull in a deep breath. His exhale was shuddery and there was nothing he could do to keep the tears from falling. 

He needed to leave, he needed to get out of the room because he was about to start sobbing and then he’d wake Eddie up, but he couldn’t muster the strength; limp as he was with residual panic, mounting relief and desperate need to hold back his sobs. 

The first one burst out, wet and broken, as he ran out of breath. His lungs burned as he inhaled, his subsequent breaths were short in the wake of now uncontrollable bawling and the guilt hit him like a spear when he saw Eddie stir in front of him. To reconcile the issue, he tried to get up again, but it did little good as his strength failed him for the second time and he fell the short distance back onto the floor and against the bed. 

Eddie rolled over a bit, mostly just calling over his shoulder, "Richie?" 

Aw fuck, not his sleep voice again. 

Richie smiled, slight, which fell away when he started cry-coughing. 

That got him. Eddie rolled over and sat up. "Oh shit." Eddie was up and crouching down in no time flat, "Rich, what's wrong?" 

Richie took a deep breath as the coughing stopped, snorted the snot up his nose and then replied weakly, "Nightmare." 

"Do you—do you want me to hug you?" 

He knew it was too dark with the curtains shut for Eddie to see him nod, so he forced out, "Yeah." 

Skinny arms wrapped around him and Richie immediately felt comfort soak into him as Eddie was pressed warm against his side. He had his head on Richie's shoulder and the closeness meant his friend’s thigh was touching his own.

The coughing had stopped the worst of it, but tears were still falling and Richie tried to take measured breaths to make sure he was still breathing. It was easy to let the silence and the worn out, empty feeling swallow him up. This was one of those times where he wished he still smoked, and he felt the urge start to fill up the emotional chasm inside of him.

"I hate that fucking clown, man," he said, to chase it away. "Every time I have these nightmares I'm afraid I'm not actually awake and he's still fucking with my mind. False sense of security 'n shit, y'know?" 

Eddie's hug tightened, "Yeah." 

"Do you have them?" 

"Sometimes. Usually when something that makes me uncomfortable happens—germs, I mean." 

Richie let that sink in for a moment. "That makes sense, I guess. Mine are all over the place, but it almost feels specifically like it's when something is finally going right for me, but I'm not sure if that sounds crazy or on par with everything else in our lives." 

Eddie shrugged, and Richie could feel the movement. "Maybe you're mentally tripping yourself out? Like a subconscious punishment for being happy when you think you don't deserve to or something." 

Richie goaned. "That would be _so_ fucked up." 

"I know. You know that you deserve to be happy, right? You're a cocky asshole and everyone probably think you believe you do since you talk yourself up, but… if you don't, then…" 

"I dunno, man. I want to be happy, but I have mixed feelings about myself. It's hard not to when I'm getting roasted by a pimply-faced jackass at work and I already just think of myself as a gay dumbass. And not even in a funny self-depricating way, just genuinely a fag and a fucking idiot." 

Eddie was silent for a second too long, "That's not because of me is it?" 

"Nah." It took him a second to find the words, but he settled on, "Sometimes. Not really because you call me one so much as like, I feel like I fuck up with you a lot. We're friends but," he wanted to say that his crush wasn't a crush— it was _love_—but he didn't, "since I like you and everything, I spent a long time wanting you to like me back, even though I'm afraid of being bi because I know where people like us end up." 

"Richie—" his tone was too consolatory though, so Richie barreled on, "But you _do_ like me and that's _amazing._ But all cards on the table? I'm _afraid."_ That hurt so much to admit. "You like me back but what then? Everyone kicks our asses for being queers?" 

Eddie frowned, "They don't have to know." 

He was tired of everyone not knowing. Now that Bev, Kaley and Eddie knew, what was the fucking point in keeping it a secret anymore? Still, though. Maine wasn't a good place to be openly gay.

"The Losers?" He asked that, but he still had every intention of coming out himself. He just wanted to see if Eddie was on the same page. It was a major hurdle for both of them, and if Eddie was comfortable, then neither of them would have to do it alone.

"Of course we'll tell them. They're our best friends, Rich. B-Besides… Bev already knows." 

What the fuck? "She does?" 

Eddie hid his face in Richie's shoulder. "The Kaley thing got to me. I wasn't jealous of you, I was jealous of her." 

That made so much sense. The overreaction, the fact that Bev looked shook after she went to talk to him, and it also explained why Eddie had avoided him afterwards.

"I’m sorry, Eds. But then, the fighting…?" 

"I wanted your attention. I always do. I pouted for a bit but when you avoided me on Friday, I went nuts." 

Richie kissed his head. "I thought about you. I had to call it off because the fights were so fucking gay I knew I'd never get over you. You were basically rubbing yourself against me like you were some sexy bar-b-que brush covered in sauce and I was a hot slab of ribs." 

"Don't call yourself that. You literally—every time you open your mouth, I wanna shove my tongue down it and shut you up."

Richie laughed. “I was always kind of worried you'd get tired of my mouth and leave, you know? But we kept being friends. I always tried to tell myself I'd be fine with it if we were just friends for the rest of our lives but that was such bullshit.” 

Eddie pulled away to get up, and Richie panicked. "Eds?" 

"I'm just turning on the light, hold on." The sound of his hand rubbing the wall in the dark was almost funny, except that it was taking so much longer just to turn on the light. "Where the fuck is it?" The doorknob rattled, and then the light was on.

Eddie turned around and faced him. "Get up." 

Richie obeyed. 

“I want to be boyfriends and I want us to be so fucking happy together that we're gross old people who are still in love and make all the other old people in our nursing home jealous." He reached for Richie's hands and Richie let him have them, "Will you go out with me?"

He really thought his tear ducts would have been tapped, but Richie felt like crying again. Fuck, that was so sappy. "Even though we might get our asses beat if someone ever finds out?” He was only teasing, and smiling when he asked, but he knew Eddie was super concerned about safety and he wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to change his mind. Richie was giving him an out.

Eddie winced. “That’s—not an appealing part of it, but yeah. For you. For us.” 

“Then yes. Yeah.” 

Eddie fisted his shirt and pulled Richie into his first kiss. 

His lips were really soft, and Richie had to guess that was because Eddie was weirdly anal about chapstick and not liking chapped lips. Bad news for him, then? At least for where Richie was concerned. 

He seemed pretty into it, though. 

Like, really into it. 

When they broke apart, Richie was smiling wide. “That was a terrible kiss.” 

Eddie swatted at him, scowling, “We’re two virgin idiots and you’ve never applied chapstick in your life. Of course it was terrible. It just means we’re gonna have to but you some chapstick and keep kissing until it gets better.” 

“For once we have the opposite of a problem on our hands.” 

“For once,” Eddie agreed, and Richie gave him a peck at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. I like your smile.” 

“My smile? You dialed up the gay real fast.” 

“This isn’t even the maximum, don’t talk to me about gay shit until we’re not virgins anymore.”

Richie squinted, “I dunno man. Is it gayer to fuck a dude or marry him? Not that we’re ready for marriage—I don’t think we’re even ready to fuck yet, I just mean, like, conceptually. Is sex or marriage gayer?” 

“Getting married, obviously.”

“Is it though?” 

“Yes? If you get married you’re telling everyone and _the government_ that you’re in love with them and that you exclusively want to fuck one person for the rest of your life.” 

Richie opened his mouth to argue and Eddie cut him off, “If you cite Mormon polygamy practices or literally any other minority of people that make an exception to what I just said, I’m gonna hit you.” 

Richie closed his mouth. 

“God, you’re the worst.” Eddie said fondly, before pulling him in for another kiss. 

With the talking out of the way, they went back to their usual banter. Eddie stayed up with him and they sat snuggled together on the couch under Richie’s blanket eating snacks and occupying the empty air with cartoons. By lunch, it was easy for Richie to pretend the nightmare had never happened, and he couldn't be happier.


	6. Fucking Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I finally fucking updated. And they're fucking, finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! im not sick anymore but i AM sick of this fic. im reading the book now, because my characterization isnt up to par and now i feel bad about it. this ting is just... a dumpster fire, and im over it. that said, heres the sex chapter! the chapter after this is gonna be the unfinished part of the only other stuff i wrote for this (which has some more smut) and then a brief summary of shit i wanted to happen
> 
> im gonna read more and ive already started taking notes on the book, so i might take a crack at writing again when i feel better about stuff? so if you guys have any requests for shit you wanna see from me in the future, leave em in the comments?? and ill see about writing them then!

Y’know what’s neat? Kissing. Making out. Just mackin’ all up on each other like horny college students—which was true for half of his relationship. 

What’s super duper _not_ neat, however, is jobs, school, homework and the general expectations of life. Do you know how much of that time could be spent making out with his now-boyfriend? 

But no, they had to fuckin’... be responsible. Disgusting. Living was just a full-time inconvenience. 

It was because of this that today was another day of kicking it behind the counter at Cinemark with Kyle and Justin. 

“Hey Rich, has your girlfriend broke up with you yet?” Justin nudged Kyle with his elbow and they snickered between each other.

So… Richie might have taken some leaps and liberties when talking about Kaley during their brief stint as people-interested-in-each-other. He’s a man, damn it. A man under fire by cinema dweebs, no less. There were only so many derogatory geek references someone could make about you before you lost it a little bit. 

How the fuck was he gonna handle this, though? Keep lying? Tell the truth? 

Fuck it. 

“Actually, I broke up with her. Found a hot side piece and she just wasn’t doing it for me anymore.” Which was one way to phrase the truth. Sure. 

Justin looked to Kyle like he obviously didn’t believe that. “Is that right?” 

“That’s what I said happened, didn’t I?”

“Show us a picture of the new girl, then. We know you bullshit, Tozier.” 

Oh, goddamnit. He really needs to start thinking things through. 

“Yeah. Right, sure. No problem.” Well now he was just making it obvious. He glanced around for a manager and then pulled out his phone. He didn’t have a lot of options here and hesitation was gonna be his downfall. 

He opened up his gallery and swiped through until he found a picture of Bev. “Here you go. See ‘er and weep, boys.” He turned the screen so they could see. It was a decent picture. They’d gone to the park one day when her class was cancelled and she was drinking some garbage from Starbucks.

Well, garbage is what he said to anyone who asked his opinion on Starbucks, but it was pretty decent sometimes. He just had a bad history trying to pair caramel and coffee, but a vanilla bean frappe? Chef’s kiss. Unfortunately, he only knew that because Bev had let him have her leftovers and now he wasn’t willing to go to Starbucks and get one himself. 

But back to the issue at hand, they were appraising one of his best friends under the guise of him being a playa and this shit was nerve-wracking. Personally, he thought Bev was gorgeous, but these guys? Fingers crossed. They liked old school Star Trek, so their taste was up in the air, really. 

A lot of unresolved hate for low resolution film, here. Early _Star Wars_ was equally as impossible, but The Last Jedi had been palatable. Too many _Star_ movies.

“Wow, you really did upgrade. How do we know you didn’t just get this from google, though?” 

Richie just gave them an unimpressed look before swiping through to find a selfie of the two of them together. Idiots. 

Who was he kidding? He was really lucky he had used Bev as a backup plan because he would have been fucked otherwise. Thank God she was sentimental and sent him that picture after she took it. 

But he still needed to cover his ass. “It’s not serious, though. We don’t want to be tied down, so we’re in an open relationship.” That would hopefully keep the worst of it from coming down on him if anything happened. Like if Bev ever figured out where she stood as far as the whole Ben-Bill situation was concerned. Maybe she needed a mild briefing on things.

“Well,” Kyle sighed, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you really pulled it off. It didn’t even take you half as long as I thought it would, either. I’m kind of pissed.” 

“Yeah, well, what can I say? When the right babe comes along, the right babe comes along.” 

“Now he gets it!” Justin gave him an underhanded high-five and Richie felt his skin crawl as their hands met. 

There was so much wrong with this conversation and he didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to be at home. Making out with his boyfriend. The boyfriend that people like Kyle and Justin could never find out about or else he’d probably end up being the second person in their apartment with a black eye. 

Although, looking at Kyle, that was kind of doubtful. He was sporting maximum dweebage. Justin, though. He looked like he’d been working out a bit, and the benefits were finally blossoming for him. Realistically, Richie could win against Kyle. He gave Justin a fifty-fifty. If they tag-teamed him? Well, that depended on their battle plan. Call him cocky, but Richie was still willing to bet on himself for that fight. 

Well, either way! Hopefully it would never come to that, because he’d probably get fired and that was numero uno on the list of shit Richie couldn’t afford. He could hope that wouldn’t be the case but it was sometimes easier to just assume the worst.

Richie glanced up at the clock and let out a long-suffering sigh. He was an hour and fourty-two minutes from the end of his shift and it was always the last hour that dragged on the slowest. It was like time knew he was impatient and tired of being here and mocked him by passing twice as slow as it should. What was worse was that the clock was a _proven_ two minutes behind, but before he could leave, he had to wait until it said the exact time he got off—so that was fucking lame.

At least it was busy. Down time was usually hell because time passed by even slower and his shitty coworkers lost patience with his tapping, fidgeting and general movement, which didn’t even begin to poke their feelings about his _mouth_ with a stick.

How was he supposed to know Hispanic people didn’t like it when you told them jokes in Spanish? 

Okay, well, it was an offensive joke and he’d said it in his _caca_ voice from the sewers but _jeeze,_ people really needed to lighten up. 

_Beep beep, Richie._

He sighed. It was easy to imagine one of the Losers stopping that train of thought right on its tracks. 

God, he really wanted to go home. It was a lot nicer living with his friends than he sometimes realized, but leave it to his miserable job to remind him that he was an ugly idiot who took everything too far and didn’t know when to shut up. 

But haha, enough about that! It was popcorn time! Popcorn, soda, candy, the irritating motherfuckers that stood in line and still didn’t know what they wanted when they got there. 

“Uh…” This guy was deadass tapping his chin while thinking.

“Popcorn? Candy? We have pizza. Brownies. Please, just fucking choose something. You’re busting my balls, here.”

“Are you allowed to say that to customers?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna complain about it?” 

“No.”

“Then yes. You have four people behind you.”

The dude caved, “Alright, a small popcorn.” 

It took a lot of self-control not to groan at that. 

Richie rung him up and handed him his popcorn. Damn this place for being so small, because it was a guarantee that he’d see that dumbass again. Just more fun things to look forward to.

He glanced up at the clock again.

Son of a bitch.

\---

When Richie got home, he threw his hat onto the couch and looked around for Eddie, who he quickly realized was nowhere to be found, once he’d narrowed it down to the bedroom and had to cross that off as well.

Fucking—! God. Damnit. 

Angry, he tore his shirt off, threw it onto the bed, kicked his shoes off and then undid his belt as he made his way to the bathroom. Stupid fucking bedroom being a shared living space where Eddie could just walk in, stupid pent up dick, stupid fucking schedules and responsibilties. Stupid. All of it. 

He locked the door behind him and got into position for what almost felt ritualistic by now. 

Pants: down.  
Dick: out.  
Hand: slick and busy. 

Like a lawyer. A dick lawyer. Which is almost an oxymoron. Did that make his balls the prosecutor and defendant? Well—in that case—either way, his dick would be sentenced to nut. He closed his eyes and willed his brain to shut the fuck up.

As the pleasure mounted, his stress melted away, and just as he could feel his impending orgasm, someone knocked on the door. 

“Hurry up. I gotta piss.” 

Richie held his breath in panic. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, he always knew he was gonna get caught one day, but why like this? Why now? Why with Eddie outside the door, who could probably hear it if he started beating his meat again, on a day when he _really_ needed to tenderize his pork?

Eddie knocked again.

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ give me a minute, Jesus Christ.” At least the panic and the cold air were killing his boner. Life was filled with small mercies, and this was his for the week. God help him with whatever came next. 

Eventually he was soft enough that he could pull up his pants and then he had to make a show of flushing and washing his hands so that way he could pretend it was a shit. Which, like many things in Richie’s life, might have worked! But when he opened the door and Eddie took his place inside the restroom, he got a glare and a, “I know what you were doing,” before the door closed in his face. 

Oh boy. 

He went to their room and laid down in his bed so he could stare up at the ceiling and steep in his shame like a pathetic little bag of tea while he waited for his boyfriend to come in and roast him for masturbating in their restroom. 

Think of the Devil and he shall open the door!

“Seriously, dude? I know you weren’t taking a shit—you stink up the bathroom and when you know I’m not waiting for you, you don’t spray the Febreze like I’ve told you to do a million times,” he was doing that cute little hand-karate-chop thing he did, “so sometimes I catch the tail end of your fucking ass smell and I _know_ when you’ve taken a shit.”

Richie sat up, “I don’t really get what the problem is?” 

“You masturbating in the bathroom! I don’t want to go to pee and have to worry about stepping in your jizz or something! At least if you masturbate on your bed that’s your _own_ problem.”

Rude. “I clean up after myself, I’m not an asshole. Like, I’m an asshole but I’m not _that_ kind of asshole.” Speaking of, let’s turn this around. “Is this your way of telling me you masturbate in here?” 

Eddie flushed, “Yeah. Shut up.”

And shit, an admission was kind of unexpected, but maybe it shouldn’t have been. 

Richie’s eyes glanced to his bed and back up at Eddie, and Eddie noticed. “Really?” 

“I’m pent up! We haven’t even been able to make out, and then you had to piss before I could finish. Leave me alone.”

But Eddie’s response was different. He rolled his shoulders back and licked his lips, “Do you really want me to?”

“What?” Richie asked, dumbfounded.

“Leave you alone.” He had this anxious sort of energy to him, and it had Richie’s stomach fluttering. 

“You want to make out?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh thank God.” Richie got on his knees, determined to clear the air with some of his classic dramatics, “If I get snogblocked by life one more time, I’m gonna go feral and start foaming at the mouth. Full rabies, Eds. That’s one day away from me running on all fours out into traffic and becoming roadkill.” 

“You’re such a drama queen. Come here.” Eddie stood and motioned him over. When Richie closed the gap between them, Eddie interlocked their fingers and pulled him backwards towards his own bed. Eddie fell back against his pillows, which put Richie on top, straddling his lap, and he frowned. 

Eddie had his hands on his hips, and Richie put a hand to his chin, his other holding his elbow. He shifted them, uncomfortable. “Uhm.” He wrung his hands. “Are you—you’re a top, right?” 

“I just wanted to move to my bed because your bed feels like the Sad Zone now, and this is just what happened, but yeah, mostly. I wouldn’t mind being on the bottom, but I definitely prefer being on top. Is that—like, is that okay?”

“No—yeah, that’s perfect, I just mean—” 

Thumbs rubbed at his sides and Eddie cut him off, “Think of it like this: you’re not on top, you’re in my lap.” 

“Wow, okay, Daddy.” 

“_Beep fucking beep,_ _ever_ say that to me again or I’ll push you onto the floor.” 

“Is this how I make it onto Santa’s naughty list?” 

_“Stop.”_

Richie smiled as the banter eased his nerves and he leaned forward to finally kiss his boyfriend. His _boyfriend._ God, he was never gonna get tired of that. 

His lips were still chapped, but it was obvious with a little time that they were getting better at this.

After a little while of them awkwardly kissing each other—which was _way_ louder than he had been prepared for—Richie sat up. “I can’t do this. The silence is killing me.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up his master playlist of songs on Spotify. There, give-or-take two hours of ad-free music. Hallelujah, praise Jesus, whatever. 

Lips.

_Hands._

Fuck.

“I seriously don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with my hands. Like, they’re falling asleep just holding me up and also, isn’t making out supposed to be sexy or something? This doesn't feel sexy. Am I not sexy, Eddie?” 

Eddie gave his an exasperated look, but ultimately smiled. “You’re sexy, Rich. Here, try this.” He sat himself up straighter and then pulled Richie forward by his ass. 

That was actually too much credit to Eddie’s strength, really he just grabbed Richie’s ass and when he pulled forward a bit, Richie got the message and scooted closer. And would you look at that, now their groins were pressed together. He was already chubbing up from making out, and with the _holy shit, Eddies dick is in his pants,_ that his garbage brain supplied, Richie Jr. was rapidly gaining interest.

Eddie moved him around like a sexy ragdoll so that Richie’s arms were around his neck, and then there were hands sliding up his shirt and started teasing up his sides, his thumb coming to rest on his nipples. 

He groaned and Eddie tweaked them, which had him bucking his hips and frantic for more attention. 

Getting scolded for masturbating was a real boner killer, but leave it to some making out and good old fashioned nipple play at the hands of the _literal_ love of his life to really revv a man's engine.

"Is now a bad time to make car sounds?" 

"Beep beep, Richie." 

Eddie tried to kiss him again, but Richie dodged, so Eddie ended up kissing his throat—his Adam's apple, in fact—and Richie shivered. "No, but, listen, I know this started out as just making out but I really want you to be mean to me. Like, mean shit. Whatever comes to mind. Degradation. You're good at that. It's hot. _Please."_ He sounded way more desperate than he’d intended to, but Eddie was getting hard 

The throat kisses stopped, "You're a stupid fucking bottom and I swear to God, if you don't shut up for _once_ in your life—" 

Fuck yeah. That was the ticket. He ground down for more friction and asked, breathless, "What're you gonna do to me?" 

Eddie floundered, "Uh… gag you?" 

"Yeah?” Losing momentum, but sure, he could work with this. Frottage and dirty talk was one way to milk a cow. Bull? Whatever.

"Yeah! Gag you, so y-you—y'know, so you shut up." 

Richie snorted and started laughing, until Eddie slapped him in the face, knocking his glasses askew. 

Eddie's eyes widened right as Richie's dick went off like a fucking rocket and his hands covered his mouth in shock. "R-Richie?"

Richie groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "Fuck. I didn't think you would slap me, holy shit." 

"Was that okay?! Don't just cuss ambiguously at me after I slap you! I keep slapping you and this isn’t a _good thing!"_

"It was more than good—" he said, fixing his glasses, "I came." 

"You came?!" 

Richie nodded and pulled away. “Switch with me.” 

"Whoa, what?" 

"Gonna suck you off. Really want to. Please?"

"G-Get a condom, at least!" 

He nodded again and fished out his wallet as Eddie got up to follow through on the switch.

"We're going to have a major fucking discussion about healthy sex habits, but I'm horny and I'll excuse it." 

He fell back in Eddie’s place and the condom was left to rest on Richie's chest as Eddie’s shorts and boxers were tossed aside. Once his boyfriend was in place, he worked his hand up and down to try and spread out some precum. Eddie was straddling his chest, and his legs were quaking with the pleasure and the effort of holding himself up, so Richie pressed his thigh and Eddie dropped his weight, punching the air out of Richie's lungs. 

"You're really good with your hands, Rich." 

It was hard to breathe with Eddie like this, so he pushed him down and sat up, sucking in air and working his hand over his dick before rolling the condom on. 

"I'm gonna lay back and just kinda—fuck my face. But slow 'cause I've never—"

"Yeah. Shit," they got into position and they both groaned as Eddie slid into his mouth. 

It really didn't take much. A few thrusts, some experimental flicks of Richie's tongue and then Eddie was blowing his load into the condom. A little bit disappointing, because Richie had been having a good time with cock in his mouth, but it was what it was. 

As Eddie took it off, it was a string of, "Gross, gross, gross, ew—Richie, you do it!" And then they were laying side by side. 

"The jizz is drying in my pants." 

"That's disgusting. You're insufferable. That mental image is literally the worst." 

"It feels the worst." 

"Then get up and change!"

"Your leg is wrapped around my leg and your hand is petting my hair. No way I'm moving." 

Eddie just hummed in response. 

“Do you wanna get McDonalds tonight?” 

“Sure.”

"Cool." They laid there in silence for a moment before Richie asked, "Can I hold your hand?"

He received a hand in response and they locked their fingers together after some awkward maneuvering. 

"This is nice." 

"Yeah."

\---

They gave it a few days to bask in the fact that they were _together_ before they finally decided it was time to make Beverly privy to the news. 

"So, Bev—"

"I could hear you guys having sex." 

They looked at her, dumbfounded, guilty and holding hands.

"Don't let it happen again." She lit a cigarette and walked over to the window to smoke and look out over the city. 

"Damn it!" 

"I know! That totally kills the mood!" 

Eddie punched him. "Dude!" 

"Well it _does!"_

"You're the worst. I'm breaking up with you." 

"Hey! It is _too_ early to be threatening the safety of our relationship!" 

"Then don't make me feel like I have to!" Eddie leaned in, and quieter, said, "I wouldn't break up with you," he ran a hand through Richie's hair and tugged, "You're mine now." 

Richie shivered, "You're so hot when you're possessive." 

"You seem to like it. Like a whore and his pimp, huh?" 

"I hate that I can't decide whether or not I like that or hate it." He was leaning towards hate, though.

Eddie shrugged, "You have time." 

"God, I love it when you're sensible." They started kissing and Beverly shouted at them, shooing them from the public domain.

They skittered like sex roaches back to their room and spent a good hour making out before Eddie grounded Richie to his bed because apparently he needed to go do "homework" at the “table” without being "distracted."

Psh. Lame. Fuck school. Fuck Eddie. 

Fucking Eddie. _Hell yeah._

One track mind? You know it! 

Doing homework took too long, and Richie started brainstorming places to take Eddie out on their first date. Definitely not the Kaley place. That would just be weird. But one day. She wasn’t gonna make a whole restaurant off limits for the rest of his life. 

Reasonably priced food less than thirty minutes away from their apartment? Yeah, he was going back there.

He ended up scouring the internet for upcoming events online and found the perfect thing for them to do. 

There was no dignity in being a hyperactive man who got excited and kicked his legs like a high school girl who just got a text from her crush, but if he did it when he was by himself in the room, then he didn’t have to answer to anybody for doing so.

\---

“Babe,” Richie started, with his head in Eddie’s lap. 

“See, that’s way better. Every time you wanna call me ‘Eds’, just call me babe. I can work with babe.”

He hummed, “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Babe is joining the pile, and you can suck it up. But _babe,_ it’s about lights. Do you like lights?” 

“Like, light bulbs?” 

“I guess, but I mean, less Thomas Eddison, more Christmas-core.”

“Oh,” Eddie was petting him again and it was as much of a problem as it was fantastic, “Yeah, lights are cool.” 

Richie lifted his fist into the air and held his arm up, “Yesss, because I know where our first date is gonna be.”

“It’s not—”

“It’s the light wonderland thing your mom never let you go to.” 

Eddie hit his arm, “I can’t believe your first move as my boyfriend is to be the cheesiest motherfucker ever! I love you!” 

Richie’s eyes widened. This one felt distinctly different from the few other times he'd been told that Eddie loved him. Y'know, usually dismissive and followed by 'but' and something Eddie didn't love about him.

“Wh—” but he was cut off by Eddie planting one on him. Affectionate bastard. He was _perfect._ When it ended, he picked back up, “Did you really say that though? Like, are we there? Are you sure we shouldn’t wait? Because like, same dude, all the way, but I don’t want to pressure you, y’know? You can take it back.” 

“Beep beep. It’s fine. Don’t be stupid—I literally said it first for a reason, and obviously that reason is because I mean it, so don’t make it weird.”

“Okay.” He held his breath. “I love you too.” 

“I know.”

“Yeah, but just—on the record. So that way it’s out there.” 

Beverly left her room and passed by on her way to the kitchen. 

“Bev, me and Richie are in love and we love each other.” 

“‘Kay.” She grabbed a bottle of water and went back to her room. After a second, she peeked her head out. “Don’t 'be in love’ on the couch or I’ll dump my bras on the floor of your room and leave them there.” 

They groaned in disgust, “Gross!” was in time with, “Sick, Bev!”

Beverly smiled and then closed the door again.

“Women are the worst.” 

“Eddie, you literally Cannot say that. You’re like a tiny little rat from hell and I’m pretty sure you get off on making people miserable.” 

Eddie snorted, “Yeah, but at least I don’t have _boobs.”_

Richie considered this. “Yeah, you don’t have the figure for them. All you’ve got is your stupid little cocklet.” 

His boyfriend punched him, “Ew, what the fuck is a cocklet?!”

Richie had to catch the next fist in his hand, “Nothing! It was a joke, stop beating me up! I swear, this is almost domestic abuse.” 

“Your _face_ is domestic abuse.” 

“Shut the _fuck_ up.” Richie sat up and pulled Eddie into his side so he could kiss him right. He gave Eddie a quick peck and then pulled away, watching his boyfriend chase for more kisses. "Say you didn't mean it or I won't kiss you." 

"You wouldn't." 

Richie turned his head away for the drama of it all and Eddie bit his ear in retaliation. "Ouch!" 

"Kiss me." 

"No! You bit me!" 

"You're a masochist, shut up and kiss me." 

"I'm not rewarding bad behavior!" 

"Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. I'm not gonna stop—kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me, Richie. Kiss me." He made fishy lips, complete with obnoxious kissing noises and Richie caved. 

Their kisses turned into another make out, which quickly got handsy. 

"Hey, whoa," he started, fearful of Bev's wrath, "do you wanna go back to our room so you can call me names and we can trade handies?" 

Eddie nodded, stunned for words before blurting out, "I want to be an asshole so much right now." 

"I know, your face is red from trying to hold back." 

Richie pulled him up and out of the living room. 

\---

Despite what he had said, once Richie started putting his sticky notes up, Eddie didn’t comment on them. Maybe he’d really only said it because he’d been pissed about Kaley, or maybe he was just waiting for a really stupid sticky note to pop. Richie couldn’ be sure. Either way, it was nice of him.

He sort of wanted to leave little notes around for Eddie, but he decided that that was really fucking gay and way too cheesy. So, he bailed on that idea and stuck one with a dick on it to his face while he was sleeping instead. Fuckin’ got em.

Eddie was so pissed off when he woke up that he tried to make Richie eat it, but he weaseled out of it by taking Eddie’s hands and squeezing them until he sassed and yelled enough to finally calm down.

How was that any less gay than post-its that said “I love you” was beyond Richie, but at least he wasn’t getting pinned for a cheeseball. 

They were still holding hands when they went into the kitchen because it turned into a mini "no you let go first" battle that neither of them were willing to lose. 

But when they turned the corner and saw Ben shirtless in the kitchen, they both let go at the same time. 

"Ben?" 

"Dude, why are you shirtless in our kitchen?" 

Ben put his face in his hands and turned around, "Aw man."

Richie had to give him credit. Whatever he was doing was paying off. He wasn't skinny by any means, but it was obvious that he was shedding weight and working hard on it. 

"Look guys," he started, "Bev can't know you saw me. Things have been kind of weird lately so she invited me over and uh," man, he was a terrible liar, "she didn't want to hurt your feelings by not bringing it up with you first." 

They shrugged, "Dude, we don't care. You're a Loser. She can tell whoever she wants about anything." Obviously, since Richie had told Kaley he was bi before anyone else. Not that they knew. 

"Yeah. Besides, you're obviously lying." Eddie passed behind him to get to the pantry for the cereal, "But you got it, Benny. We'll just pretend you were never here." 

"Ben?" Richie asked pointedly to Eddie. 

"Ben who?" 

"Oh, Ben from our friend group?" 

"_That_ Ben?!"

"That's the one. Nope. Haven't seen him in ages." 

"I thought he was dead," Eddie retorted, carrying the box of Captain Crunch out.

"It's always the good that die young," Richie lamented.

Ben was watching their back and forth with a miserable expression. "You two spend too much time together." 

"That's what happens when you share a room. It's not just space. It's secrets. Inside jokes. The scents of hell trapped inside your bowels." 

Ben made a face.

"Hey!" Richie defended, "My farts don't even smell that bad!"

"Not to you! But I bet it's 'cause you fried your fuckin' schnozz with the years of rancid gas!" Eddie slammed the milk onto the counter.

Richie gave a grand gesticulation in Eddie's direction, "Do you see what I live with? Every day. He hurts me. I'm bleeding out here!" 

"Weh, weh, I'm Richie! I shit my diaper and cry like a pissbaby! Get over it! If I have to smell your ass, you can take some harsh verbal criticism!"

"I might be a pissbaby but at least I'm not toddler sized!" 

"I'm 5'6 and you know it, don't _fucking_ test me with this bullshit again! You always joke about going feral but you don't know the fuckin' half of it!" __

_ __ _

"Oh, I'm so scared!" His voice a mockery of fear, "The infant is gonna _gum_ me to death!" 

_ __ _

"Guys!" Ben interrupted, "You're gonna wake Bev up." 

_ __ _

They turned to him. "Ohoho, so Bev is asleep? Did you spend the _night,_ Ben?" 

_ __ _

Richie checked the couch. "No couch blankets." 

_ __ _

They raised their eyebrows at him. 

_ __ _

Their friend caved, "Alright, alright, we're… together. We only made it official last night, so we weren't ready to tell anyone. Before that it was just—you know." 

_ __ _

"Say it."

_ __ _

Eddie smacked his arm. "Don't say it. Stop being gross, Rich." 

_ __ _

"He's having it and he can't even say 'sex'? We're all eighteen here." 

_ __ _

Eddie smacked him again. "You don't have to say it." 

_ __ _

"Oh shit, is that why Bev was tightening her robe that one night? Did I interrupt you guys doing it?" 

_ __ _

Ben flushed like a toilet and Richie clapped his hands, "Holy shit! I thought she was fucking someone but I didn't know it was _you!"_ He held up his hand, "High-five, dude! You finally sealed the deal! And it only took, what? Like, four months?" 

_ __ _

He got a tentative high-five and an affirmative, "Something like that. Years, for sure. But I guess four months, if you're counting from September." 

_ __ _

"Oh you know I am. I really want to know everything. Is that weird?" He looked between Eddie and Ben.

_ __ _

"Kind of," Eddie offered.

_ __ _

Ben shrugged. "It's nice, I guess? Nosy, maybe."

_ __ _

Richie scoffed, "I've been called worse. And by my own boyfriend, too." His eyes widened. Oooh no. 

_ __ _

"Your boyfriend?" Ben was curious now, and that was bad. Bad—bad, bad, bad. 

_ __ _

Richie glared at him, "Wouldn't you like to know, building boy? You'll find out when everyone else does." He stole Eddie's bowl of cereal and ignored the offended "Hey!" that followed him as he fled from the kitchen. 

_ __ _

Ben and Bev was one thing, but gay Richie was another.

_ __ _


	7. R.I.P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, so like i said, this is an incomplete chapter and im posting it mostly just because i might as well? and it ties up a little bit of what i wanted to with ben/bev and other things. tropes are fun but self-awareness is meta sexy
> 
> sorry to those of you that have been following along and were looking forward to the end, but at least things than their course for the most part? hopefully ill be back with more stuff, if im not totally discouraged. it was fun while it lasted and it means so much to me that you guys liked it! i hope i can do yall better with whatever i do next!

"Hey Eddie, should I eat this pizza that's been in the fridge since Saturday?" 

"That's literally eight days old. No! Don't eat it." 

Richie took a bite, and Eddie immediately looked like he wanted to hurl. 

"I'm gonna kill you if that pizza doesn't first." 

He made a show of chewing and swallowing, and then smacked his mouth to really taste the flavor. 

It took all of five seconds for it to hit him bad. 

"That…actually tasted terrible, I regret that. I might actually be sick." 

"I (told) you not to eat it! You fucking idiot. God, you're—you're so fucking stupid." But the way he said it was breathless, with this hungry look in his eyes, and he was leaning forward in a suggestive way so Richie just… leaned forward.

“No! You’re nasty! Don’t—” but when Richie kissed him he didn’t pull away. He didn’t deepen it either, but hey, small victories. It’s not like Richie didn’t try, but that’s when Eddie (did) end the kiss. He pushed him away, “Why are you trying to eat bad pizza when we have Totino’s in the freezer?” 

Richie’s face scrunched up and he opened the freezer to check. “Oh shit. We do.” He took one out and turned back to Eddie, who looked disappointed in him.

“You (bought) those, Rich.” 

“Yeah, like, two weeks ago. I don’t fuckin’ remember what’s everywhere all the time. Besides, it’s cheese. I wanted the meat lover’s.” Hehe, meat lovers. 

“That’s a terrible joke.” 

Richie tore open the pizza, offended, “I didn’t even say it out loud!” 

“You didn't have to. You looked way too satisfied with yourself.”

“I don’t think I like this anymore.” He was searching the shelves for the bacon bits, “Stop knowing me so well. Let’s be strangers.” He squinted at the expiration date. Expired. By almost a year. What the fuck? 

“Ugh, God no. I don’t want to have to learn everything from the beginning. I’m glad we were friends for so long, it makes dating interesting. We’re the Childhood Friends to Lovers trope and I’m fine with that.”

Richie shook some of the bits into his hand, “Do I want to know why you know that’s a trope? And is _everything_ in here expired? We’ve been here for _four_ months.” 

“Maybe.” Eddie snatched the bacon bits from him and looked at the expiration date just as Richie tossed his palmful into his mouth. Obviously having noticed the date, Eddie tossed the bottle into the trash and pleaded, “Please stop eating expired foods. If not for your health, then for my sanity.”

“They taste bad,” he evaluated. Too much like bacon, but also like tooth hurty crunch. Which isn’t a flavor, but sure does make his teeth hurt. “I wanted to put them on my pizza.” 

“No shit they taste bad! It’s part of the crap your mom loaded up on you when you moved out.”

Oh, yeah. That made sense. 

“She never was good at checking for expiration dates.” Richie set the oven to preheat.

“And the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, apparently. How do move in and have bacon bits that are already expired without noticing? Did you just put it on the shelf without looking?” 

He was laying a sheet over the pan for his pizza when Eddie asked him this, and his response was just a look that said _what do you think?_ He set his pizza on top, checked for red coils and then put it in the oven as Eddie voiced his disappointment from behind. 

“You disappoint me so frequently, and I’m so in love with you.” 

Richie kept bending down, even after he’d closed the oven. “Is it the ass? I feel like it’s the ass.” 

Eddie nodded, “It’s a little bit the ass.” 

“Only a little bit?”

“Do you (want) your ass to be a bigger reason for liking you?” 

Richie wiggled his behind, “You could stand to objectify me more.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Eddie laughed, getting closer to spank Richie with a satisfying _slap._

“Fucking _crisp.”_ He stood up and pulled Eddie closer so that they were pressed together, “So, our date is tomorrow.”

Eddie’s big ol’ doe eyes were looking up at him and his reply was a sultry sort of flirty. “I remember.”

Man, Richie was gay. So gay. How could he not be? His best friend was _hot._

“And my dad called. He wants me to remind you that you’re invited to stay for Christmas.” 

“I thought that was a given? 

“Eh,” he shrugged, “your mom made the tradition pretty back and forth.” 

Eddie considered this, “Fair enough. Now I get to ask your mom all the embarrassing stuff I wouldn’t when we weren’t dating. We’re telling your family, right?” 

Richie nodded, “Right after the Losers’ Annual.”

“Ugh, that reminds me—I had to play dumb with Ben.”

“And I oop?” 

“Don’t VSCO girl me, you could have just told him.”

Could he though? “I mean, you’re involved. It just kind of came out and I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Doesn’t that sound a little hypocritical though? I mean, that’s literally where Ben ended up because we were being shitheads.”

“Sksksksk—okay, you’re right. Did he say anything about it?” 

“Just the usual. That he was surprised, asked if I’d known, which I pretended I didn’t.”

“Alright, well, that sounds terrible and I’m feeling guilty as fuck now, so let’s call him. Let’s use your phone though, I don’t want to look guilty.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes but pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts for Ben’s number and then put him on speaker. It rang for an uncomfortably long time on the counter, during which Eddie and Richie were standing shoulder to shoulder, but finally, Ben answered. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Benny boy. You’re on speaker, it’s me and Eds.” 

“Seriously?” Eddie asked.

Richie looked to him, "Would you stop complaining about your nickname already? It’s been _literal_ years. Get over it." He directed his voice back to the phone. "Listen, Ben, uh, about the other day—I wanted to apologize. I let a bomb drop and then walked out on you after me and Eddie had forced you into a corner about the Bev thing and that wasn’t cool. So… uh...” Wow was it hot in here, suddenly? “About my boyfriend and everything. It’s Eddie. Also I’m bi. I don’t know what Eddie is.” 

When he looked to his boyfriend for an answer, Eddie just shrugged, which Richie took to mean that he didn’t know either.

“We’re coming out during the Annual, officially, so try and act surprised, yeah?” 

“Oh! Okay! Thanks for telling me you guys. Also, I forgive you. I told Bev what happened because it didn’t feel right to keep it from her and she said it was fine, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, in the end. We’re all like a family, and everyone was going to find out eventually anyway; doesn’t matter when it happens or in what order.”

Hm. Well, that was cute and totally normal of them.

“Glad to hear it, dude. Have a nice day, okay?” 

“You too!”

Ben hung up first and Richie looked to Eddie. “Dude, bright idea.” 

“You scare me when you say that.”

“Horny scared?” 

“Scared-scared.”

“Well fear not, my love! It’s literally just about the Annual. Like, what if we don’t come out?” 

Eddie nudged him and Richie took the hint to get his pizza out of the oven. “What does that mean, though?” 

Richie grabbed the little pinchy mitt and pulled the pan out to set on top of the stove. “I mean like, hasn’t all of this bullshit been angsty enough? Fuck it. Let’s just pull the ‘Yeah, we’re gay. Keep scrolling’ move.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea.” 

“You say that I never have good ideas.”

“We covered this on day one, we’re not rehashing this.”

“You say that, and yet all you do is complain about ‘Eds’.”

Eddie glared. “I’m within my rights.” 

Richie gave an exaggerated, high-pitched hum, “I don’t think that’s true. You don’t have rights, last I checked.” 

The unamused look he was hit with was intense. “Richie.” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re a bottom.” 

“First of all—” Richie started, offended to the maximum.

“Says the bottom!” 

“I’m not a fucking bottom!” 

“Oh, you’re right, I’m sorry, says _bottom leaning switch.”_

“I don’t appreciate the way you said that.” 

“You weren’t supposed to.” 

Richie threw down his pinchy mitt for dramatic effect. “I’m starting a movement. We need to end this oppression. Tops have thought of themselves as superior for too long. This ends now.” 

Eddie clapped his hands together, “The _literal_ definition of superior is _above.”_

Richie stuck out a finger, prepped to say something before his brain had thought of any words. Finally, he pointed at Eddie and declared, “Next time, I’m gonna top the shit out of you.” 

Eddie slapped a hand to his forehead, “Phrase it better, dude.” 

“No! The shit! All of the shit? Out of you. None shit here, guys. Where’d it go? Richie topped it out of him.” 

“_Please_ shut up.” 

“I won’t be silenced by tops any more!” Richie picked up his entire pizza and took a bite from the corner. Eddie hated when he did it and it as worth seeing his tortured expression. 

This time was different though. He got an indignant “Fuck you,” before Eddie was taking his pizza and doing the same thing. This was an action fueled entirely by spite, because Richie has heard countless long-winded rants about how shitty his diet is, and that he needs to actually buy) vegetables so that way they can _eat_ them. Richie had argued that through word and deed for awhile, but the lack of vegetables took a physical toll and he caved, which was not a shining moment for Edward Kaspbrak's humility.

“How’s that for a tasty fucking powermove?"

Richie took in his indignant demeanor with wide eyes.

Actually, that was super hot. Eddie was always so clean and put together, so seeing him hold a whole pizza (sans bite) just to tear off a big chunk with his teeth—chewing and swallowing as obnoxiously as possible—was actually very attractive. It punched the norm right in the dick and stirred interest in his own. 

Was this normal? He couldn’t tell what was weird and what was normal anymore. Not that he guessed it really mattered, because either way, this was doing it for him.

Eddie took another smaller bite afterwards. “This actually isn’t that bad.” 

Richie smiled wide, “See? Live a little! Just live a little less on my pizza.” He grabbed a knife and had Eddie set it down so he could cut a strip of it off for him, and they sat down to eat together. 

“I actually have another idea.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. What if we like… pushed our beds together into one big bed? We’d have to reorganize the room a little bit, because obviously we have to move the night stands to the other sides, but like, if you’re down…” 

Eddie flushed, “That’s—that’s really cute, fuck you.” 

Smiles all a-fucking-round. “I’m glad you think so! We’re sleeping on singles and there’s no fucking room to cuddle that way. I want full spoonage tonight. I’ll be the big spoon, obviously.” 

Eddie just smiled and shrugged, apparently not arguing with that. Nice! Not all things in life are better when you have to fight for them.

They were on that real domestic shit tonight. Eating dinner, washing the dishes and then pushing their beds together with some surprisingly efficient teamwork and next to zero yelling. 

Richie stood back with his hands on his hips to survey the room now that everything was in place. 

"The corners look naked." 

Eddie stood back with him and agreed. "Here." He kicked his dirty clothes basket into the corner on his side of the room.

Well, it wasn't perfect but that definitely _sort of_ solved the problem. 

"Bedtime?" 

"Bedtime." 

They changed into their pajamas in silence and then crawled into bed. Richie got into big spoon position, patting the empty space beside him so that Eddie would actually _lay down_ already, and when he did, they got comfy. 

"Dude… I feel like we're an old married couple already." 

"I know," Eddie agreed, "It's weird. Do you think we're too young? I don't want to join the ranks of all the people whose marriages end in divorce." 

"We haven't even gotten married yet?" 

"Well, obviously. But I mean—I don't know." 

"Yeah. Let's not talk about the marriage. Marriage is weird. Let's talk about like… Stan." 

Eddie shifted in his arms, "What about Stan?" 

"Well, do you think Stan could be gay? I don't mean _is_ he gay, I mean _could_ he be gay?" 

"I'm pretty sure there are gay Jews?"

"Doesn't add up. Pork isn't kosher." 

"I'm getting out of bed," Eddie announced, sitting up. 

"No! Don't leave me!" 

Eddie laid back down, "I was just fucking with you. That was terrible though—I dare you to tell him that. He'll hate it."

Richie laughed, imagining Stan's face, "God, he fucking would. He's fun to mess with."

"You think everyone is fun to mess with." 

"Some of you guys just make it too easy, that's not my fault." 

"Just because you see an opening doesn't mean you have to take it." 

"Sounds a little too much like self-restraint to me."

"Gee, 'cause it'd be a shame to have some of that for once." Richie could hear the eyeroll in Eddie's reply.

"It would. For example: Bill. Do you think if we called him William, he would have named his dick Bill, since Bill is short for William?" There was a moment of silence after his question, so Richie followed up with, "Did I have to ask that? No. But I've seen sitting on it for two weeks and I'm _tired."_

"I don't even know how to answer that," he says, clearly amused, "Go to sleep, Richie." 

"I'm _trying."_ But his mind was going ninety in the fastlane. 

Truthfully he was just eager for it to be tomorrow already. His brain was in date mode and there was no date yet, which just left him awake and hyperactive, despite needing to sleep so that way he would actually be well-rested _for_ his date. 

Richie moved his arm out from under Eddie's head and sat up, "Let's christen the double bed." 

Eddie was still laying down in the dark, "Is this you trying to 'top the shit out of me'?"

"No. Yes. A little bit. I'm kind of just—I like sucking your dick." 

"I'm sold." Richie could see Eddie lift his hips in the moonlight—oh fuck, they'd left the curtains open, which meant the sun was gonna be a pain in the ass tomorrow morning—and then pull his shorts down. 

Eddie insisted on prepping himself and once the condom had been rolled on, Richie took him into his mouth. 

At first he was frantic, quickly and shallowly bobbing his head to try and work himself up to taking Eddie in deeper, but a hand pulled at his hair. "Richie, slow down." 

He pulled off to take a second, and then started over. This time, he teased at the head with his tongue and wrapped his hand around where his mouth wasn't reaching yet. Eddie moaned and the grip in his hair tightened. Richie's eyes fluttered shut and took more of Eddie into his mouth so he could feel the weight of his cock on his tongue. 

Slowing down had been a great idea, actually, because it had completely absorbed Richie in what he was doing. His mind had slowed down and he was fixated on _Eddie._ Eddie's moans, inhales, the way his hips kept trying to buck up and force his dick deeper into Richie's mouth. He was forced to let his hand fall away in lieu of holding Eddie down, and the frustrated whimper he got in response made a rush of affection swell up inside of his chest. 

Richie pulled back, "Eds, Eddie, _babe._ I love you so much." 

Eddie nodded, frantic. "I love you too." He cupped Richie's face with both hands so that he could give him a desperate and affection kiss. 

There was still a lot of wild tongue and sloppy noises, but overall, they'd improved a lot together, as far as kissing went. It was almost unfortunate that he had to stop kissing his boyfriend if he wanted to continue _blowing_ his boyfriend, but wasn't that just like life? 

Two ears and one mouth. _So you can listen twice as much as you speak,_ said a poster in high school—but God's anatomical curse had never stopped Richie from doing the exact opposite. __

_ _There was only the sore jaw, the headaches from talking too much, and now, apparently, the inability to perform a kiss-blow combo on his boyfriend. Those were the things that got him._ _

_ _It was fine though. One thing at a time. Right now, it was time to bring Eddie to Nut Town. _ _

_ _Since they were still in the exploratory phase of things, Richie tried humming to see how Eddie would respond. _ _

_ _He was definitely into it. _ _

_ _Fondling his balls, though? _ _

_ _Eddie jerked as one of his hands rolled his balls gently between his fingers, and when he hummed to add to the sensation, Eddie came with a broken moan. _ _

_ _Richie helped him clean up, tossing everything into the trash on his side of the room and then laid back down. _ _

_ _"You're not gonna—?" Eddie asked. _ _

_ _"Nah, I'm good." He pressed a kiss to Eddie's temple and then snuggled closer. "Hey, Eds?"_ _

_ _"Yeah?" _ _

_ _"Is it really gay to kiss your temple? That felt really gay." _ _

_ _He could hear how tired his boyfriend was when be replied, "I like it. Besides, everything you do is really gay."_ _

_ _Fair enough. _ _

_ _\---_ _

_ _When Richie woke up the next morning, Eddie was clinging to him in his sleep._ _

_ _He was right about the sun. That son of a bitch was definitely bright and about thirty percent why Richie was awake right now, the other seventy percent being morning wood. He had to piss like the dickens. So, while it was heart-warming, and he smiling like a goofball up at the ceiling listening to Eddie’s sleepy exhales, his bladder demanded freedom from the oppression of piss._ _

_ _There was no way he was going to be able to get himself out of this without waking Eddie up, being the light sleeper that he was, so he figured he might as well bite the bullet. _ _

_ _He felt around the nightstand with one hand for his glasses and—with great difficulty—maneuvered them onto his face. _ _

_ _He gave Eddie a tentative shake to see if it would do the trick. His eyes were flickering behind his lids, but he didn’t move. “Eddie,” he coaxed, “c’mon, wake up.” He shook him again and this time he moved, but only to snuggle closer. Fuck, that was so cute. _ _

_ _Piss on hold for a second, he needed boyfriend material. Richie grabbed his phone off the charger and took a fairly shitty picture with his camera. The second attempt came out better, and he saved it to his gallery before giving Eddie the final shake to do the trick. _ _

_ _Eddie shot up and took a deep inhale, looking up at Richie with squinty eyes and half of his hair sticking up from where he’d slept against the pillow all night._ _

_ _“Morning, Eddie Spaghetti.” _ _

_ _Eddie groaned and fell back against the pillows. _ _

_ _“You cling to me when you’re asleep like spaghetti noodles when you twirl them around the fork.”_ _

_ _“Shuddup.”_ _

_ _Richie was soft. He smiled and leaned down to tease, “You’re so grumpy in the mornings. It’s cute. You’re so cute. Cute, cute, cute—the cutest.” He gave Eddie’s cheek a soft pinch and Eddie turned to bite his finger. It wasn’t hard, just a nip, like when your cat is trying to play but also warn you to fuck off. _ _

_ _Noted. _ _

_ _“Sorry to wake you up. I have to piss, so I’m gonna go do that now. Do you want me to make breakfast?” _ _

_ _“Uh huh.” But Eddie was pulling his blanket back over his head to block out the light. _ _

_ _“I’ll just wake you back up when it’s ready.” _ _

_ _He didn’t get a response and his bladder really was a pressing issue, so Richie ran off to relieve himself and get started. _ _

_ _In the kitchen, Bev was drinking coffee and staring out the window. _ _

_ _“Morning, Bev.” _ _

_ _“Morning, Richie.” _ _

_ _“Did you just get back from wherever?” _ _

_ _She gave a noncommittal shrug, taking a sip. “I was at Ben’s dorm until late last night.”_ _

_ _“Well, you missed the rodeo, so congrats.” He smiled at the face she made. “Speaking of rodeos, when did you and Ben even happen? I totally missed that.” _ _

_ _“It was when I left because you and Eddie were fighting. I stayed at Ben’s, he confessed about a poem he’d written to me years ago, and things just went from there.”_ _

_ _Huh. “That sounds really Ben-core. It seems like he makes you happy, so I’m glad everything worked out.”_ _

_ _Beverly smiled to herself in this happy, secretive way that suited her dreamy, “Me too.”_ _

_ _\---_ _

_ _“Y’know, there’s something I forgot to ask,” Richie said, as they were shelling out the cash for their tickets. The lady at the booth smiled at them as she strapped the little wristbands onto each of their right hands, and then were free to go inside. “I found out you were gay and why you got punched because you told me while I was asleep, but is that like—is that just something you do?” _ _

_ _It was more than a little weird. He didn’t think people actually did that in real life. And truthfully, he still has doubts. Eddie could just be weird. There was no scope for this, unless he tried to Google it maybe, but who knew what kind of freaks he’d find on Yahoo Answers? Those motherfuckers couldn’t even spell _pregnant_ right. _ _

_ _Eddie held his hand tighter, which was a weird sensation since they were both wearing gloves, but it was way too fucking cold out here to be going naked handed. They were only allowing it because they figured that even with the lights, it’d generally be too dark for people to see them holding hands, but they’d play it by ear. _ _

_ _“Sometimes? Look, I know it’s weird but it’s not _supposed_ to be weird. You’re my best friend and if my mom let me have a therapist, or if I could afford one now, I’d tell them everything. I was working with what I had. Sleeping best friends don't judge.” _ _

_ _“I don’t judge.”_ _

_ _“Richie, you’re one of the _most_ judgemental people I know. _I’m_ judgemental. It’s fine. It was stupid and I’m never doing that again. I’m just glad it worked out for the better. Now look at us! We’re on a date in the freezing cold looking at lights.” _ _

_ _He said it in a way that suggested he didn’t want to be here, but Richie already knew he was excited about it all. It was in his eyes on the way here, when Bill dropped them off, and already, he was picking up his pace to see the first set of structures. _ _

_ _"I mean, don't let me stop you. Do what you have to do."_ _

_ _

_ _\-----_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all i have! i cut out a bit where richie was hating on elsa, because... yikes??? but if things had gone according to plan:  
∙ i honestly didnt have much of a plan for the date which is why i kinda cut it there, but like.  
∙ the "yeah we're gay, keep scrolling" method was literally like, they show up holding hands and their friends are like "thats a thing?" and theyre like "yeah" and everyone is like "sounds about right, yeah. hey, have you tried the fried rice?"  
∙ they go home to richie's house for christmas, where his mom and dad are embarrassing and when theyre like "oh yeah, we're dating" his mom launches into this whole thing about how, when richie was 7, he had told her that he was gonna marry eddie and she thought it was cute but it was probably gonna be bullshit when he was older cause KIDS, yknow? but shit, look at em now  
∙ i ended up mentioning marriage way too much and i cant remember how many of those mentions i cut out to avoid that, but they end up just sitting on the idea until theyre like, 27 and then its like "we should get married. why arent we married yet? do you know how long we could have been married by now?" with the typical Eddie Is Overbearing About Planning and Richie Has A Breakdown Because His Threshold For Stress Is Nonexistent so they have a wedding half the size of what they had planned on originally and its cute. theyre cute 
> 
> thanks again and just a reminder that you can comment if you have any requests for future stuff!


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